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V 


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ELEMENTS 


OF 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


ELEMENTS 


OF 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY: 


COMPRISIN© 


THE  THEORir  OF  nSORAKS 


f 


AND 


PRACTICAL  ETHICS. 


BV  JOHK  I..  FjCLRKHURST. 

CONCORD,  Tsr.  ii. 

PUBLISHED  BY  J.  B.  MOORE  &  J.  W.  SHEPARD. 

18^5. 


DISTRICT  OF  NEW-HAMPSHIRE,  to  wit: 
^  ^  District  Clerk's  Office, 

J!l.  S.|  Be  it  remembered,  that  on  the  2Sth  dayof  December,  A.  D.  1824, 
''____J  and  in  the  forty-ninth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States  of 
America,  JOHN  L.  PAKKHURST  of  the  said  District,  hath  deposited  in 
this  office,  the  title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof  he  claims  as  author,  in  the  words 
following-,  to  wit !  **  Elentents  of  Moral  Philosophy :  comprising  the  Theory  of 
Morals  and  Practical  Ethics.     By  JOHN  L.  PARKHURSl." 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled, "  An  act 
for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  bv  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and 
books  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein 
mentioned ;"  and  also  to  an  act,  entitled,  "  An  act  supplementary  to  an  act,  en- 
titled, an  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps, 
charts,  and  books  to''the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times 
therein  mentioaed,  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing, 
fcUffraving,  and  etching,  historical,  and  other  prints." 

WILLIAM  CLAGGETT, 
Clerk  of  the  District  of  iiew-Hampshire. 
A  true  copy  of  Record  :— 

Attest,  WILLIAM  CLAGGETT,  Clerk. 


G  6^  ./''^ 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODBCTION, 


PAGE. 
13 


THEORV  OF  lyEOR^IiS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


FOUNDATION  OF  MORAL  DISTINCTIONS. 


Definitions,  

I.     Moral  emotions  are  of  a  peculiar  kind,     . 
II.    Moral  feelings  are  of  a  peculiar  kind. 

III.  All  men  feel  moral  emotions,  ,        , 

IV.  The  moral  emotions  are  never  capricious, 

1.  Moral  emotions  do  not  always  arisC; 

2.  Complexity  of  actions, 

3.  Imperfection  of  language, 

4.  Failure  in  the  memory, 

5.  Association, 

1.  Is  conscience  a  distinct  faculty  ? 
Conscience  and  reason  distinguished, 

2.  Is  conscience  an  original  faculty  ? 

3.  Is  ccmscience  ever  erroneous  .'* 
Moral  perceptions,       .... 

a2 


19 
20 
22 
25 
26 
ib. 
27 
30 
31 
32 
34 
36 
38 
40 
lb 


Ti 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

NATURE    OF    VIRTUE. 


Definitions;  

Moral  Obligation;  .... 

Ouglit  the  dietates  of  conscience  always  to  be  obeyed  ? 
The  case  of  St.  Paul  (Actsxxvi.9)  considered, 
Ground  of  virtuous  preference  in  acting; 

1.  The  will  of  God, 

2.  Moral  worth  of  actions, 

3.  Self-interest, 
Eternal  happiness, 

4.  The  promotion  of  happiness. 
Foundation  of  moral  obligation, 


PAGE. 
41 

44 
4S 
49 
53 
54 

ib. 


SI 

6S 
69 


CHAPTER  III 


DEGREE    OF    VIRTUE. 


1.  Influence  of  temptation^ 

2.  Influence  of  habit, 

3.  Influence  of  fortune. 


71 

72 
74 


PRACTICAI.  STHZOS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  RULE  OF  DUTY. 


1.    Experience  and  observation; 
General  rules,  • 

^Ififluence  of  example, 


78 
79 
82 


00WTENT8.  Vll 

PAGE. 

2.    The  commands  of  God,        .......        86 

The  divine  benevolence,  •        ib. 

On  making  exceptions  to  general  rules,              ....        92 
Some  objections  considered, 94 


CHAPTER  II. 

SOURCES    OF   HUMAN   HAPPINESS. 

1.  The  moderate  gralilication  of  the  senses,  .        .        .  100 

2.  Moderation  in  our  views  and  wishes,         ....  102 

3.  Exercise  of  our  faculties,  ......  103 

4.  Habits,  104 

5.  Health,  105 

6.  Looking  at  things  on  the  bright  side,  ,        .        .        •  106 

7.  The  social  affections, ,  108 

8.  Pious  affections, -    .  109 


CHAPTER  III. 

GENERAL  MEANS  OF   PROMOTING   HUMAN  HAPPINESS. 


1.  Example  and  habit; 

2.  Diffusion  of  knowledge  and  virtue, 

3.  Civil  government, 
Crimes  and  punishments. 


109 
115 
115 
11$ 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ON   PROMOTING   THE   HAPPINESS   OF    OUR   INFERIORS. 

1.    Treatment  of  domestics  and  dependants,        i*i^sw»_     .        122 
Slavery,  .        .        .  .        . 


Ill  fONTENTS. 

FAGE. 

2.    Professional  assistance, 1^5 

S.     Pecuniary  bounty,  126 

Various  duties  of  benevolence, 128 


CHAPTER  V. 

RESENTMENT,  ANGER,  AND    REVENGE,  .  .  .  13fi 


CHAPTER.  VI. 

BUELLING,  .  .  .  .  .  .  «  Hfi 


CHAPTER  VII. 

EMULATION  AND    AMBITION. 

I.  Definition  of  terras,  149 

II.  Connection  of  emulation  with  some  other  principles,  151 

III.  Emulation  distinguished  from  some  other  principles, 

IV.  Influence  of  emulation  on  the  public  welfare, 
V.  Means  of  exciting  and  encouraging  emulation, 

VI,     Means  of  stimulating  the  student  without  emulation, 
VII.     Concluding  remarks, 


152 
155 
159 
161 
168 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LITIGATION,  .  .  .  .  .  ,  .  17g 


CONTENTS. 


GRATITUDE, 


CHAPTER  IX. 


PAGK^ 

178 


SLANDER, 


CHAPTER  X. 


181 


or    RIGHTS, 


CHAPTER   XL 


182 


OF   PROPERTY, 


CHAPTER  XII. 


187 


CHAPTER  Xlil. 

PROMISES. 


1.  Obligation  to  perform  promises, 

2.  In  what  sense  promises  are  to  be  interpreted, 

3.  In  what  cases  promises  are  not  binding, 


189 

ib. 
192 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


CONTRACTS, 


197 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

PAGE. 

MES, 203 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

OATHS, 21© 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

WILLS, 212 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

ON  THK    CONJUGAL    RELATION,  .  .  .  .^13 

JjJuties  of  the  conjugal  lelation,  219 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ON  THE  PARENTAL  AND  FILIAL  RELATIONS. 

1 .  Duty  and  rights  of  parents, ,        228 

2.  Duty  of  children,       • 232 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    RIGHTS  OF  SELF-DEFENCE,  .  .  ,  S37 


•0NTENTI5.  XI 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


FAGS. 

DRUNKENNESS, 23^ 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
SUICIDE,  246 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ON    PRAYER  AND   PUBLIC   WORSHIP,  .  .  £47 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ON    THE   SABBATH,  .  .  ,  .  .  .  254 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

ON    REVERENCING    THE  DEITY,  .  .  .  .  256 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

In  the  writing  of  this  volume,  the  author 
has  availed  himself  of  the  labors  of  others, 
so  far  as  they  have  been  to  his  purpose.  In 
the  Theory  of  Morals,  he  is  chiefly  indebted 
to  Brown  ;  in  Practical  Ethics,  to  Paley. — 
In  making  the  extracts  from  the  work  of  Dr. 
Paley,  liberty  has  been  taken  to  abridge  or 
alter,  wherever  it  was  thought  expedient ; 
and,  in  a  few  instances,  where  the  grammat- 
ical construction,  the  phraseology,  or  the 
sense,  has  been  considerably  altered,  the  ex- 
tracts are  marked  with  single  inverted  com- 
mas. 

December  27,  1824. 


NOTE.  Those  who  find  the  Thkort  of  Morals  unintelligible  or 
uninteresting,  may  pass  from  the  Introduction  to  Practical  Ethici ; 
p.  76. 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


IXiTTaODXJGTIOXr  . 

Knowledge  is  congenial  to  the  human. mind.  The 
acquisition  of  it  affords  a  pleasure,  independent  of 
the  uses  to  which  it  may  be  applied.  But  it  is  the 
practical  utility  of  any  branch  of  knowledge,  which 
gives  it  its  chief  value.  The  difference  between  the 
practical  utility  of  the  various  branches  of  knowl- 
edge, is  very  great.  Some  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be 
of  any  benefit  beyond  the  momentary  gratification 
afforded  by  the  acquisition  ;  others  produce  an  effect 
on  the  mind  which  is  indirectly  beneficial ;  and  others 
are  directly  subservient  to  the  purposes  of  human 
life.  Such  knowledge  and  such  studies,  as  tend  to 
strengthen  and  elevate  the  mind,  to  induce  a  habit  of 
reflection,  and  to  withdraw  the  thoughts  from  the 
thousand  trifles  by  which  they  are  so  prone  to  be  oc- 
cupied, exert  a  salutary  influence  on  the  conduct  and 
on  the  happiness  of  the  individual,  by  means  of  the 
effect  which  they  produce  on  the  mind,  though  they 
may  not  be  capable  of  being  directly  applied  to  any 
practical  purposes.  But  as  it  is  the  disposition  of 
heart  which  individuals  cherish,  and  the  course  of 
moral  conduct  which  they  pursue,  that  are  the  grand 
source  of  happiness  or  misery  to  themselves  and  oth- 
ers, that  knowledge  which  is  best  adapted  to  melior- 
ate the  disposition  and  to  regulate  the  conduct,  must 
be  most  worthy  of  our  attention  and  pursuit. 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

Man  is  not  guided  by  instinct  to  the  infallible  at- 
tainment of  his  best  good.  He  may  fail  of  it  by  in- 
action, or  by  ill-directed  efforts.  He  finds  himself 
led  astray  by  his  passions  ;  and  he  looks  in  vain,  for 
a  safe  guide,  to  the  example  of  others.  It  is,  then,  the 
dictate  of  wisdom  to  inquire,  by  what  means  these 
wayward  propensities  may  be  subdued,  and  his  feet 
guided  in  the  path  of  peace.  Happy  are  they  who 
make  this  inquiry  in  early  years.  Still  happier  they, 
whom,  before  they  are  capable  of  making  the  inqui- 
ry, the  hand  of  instruction  has  been  already  guiding 
in  the  path  of  knowledge  and  virtue. — But  what  is  the 
knowledge,  which  the  young  inquirer  should  chiefly 
seek,  and  the  friendly  instructer  most  sedulously  im- 
part ?  What  is  the  knowledge,  which  tends  to  recall 
us  from  low  and  sordid  pursuits,  to  fix  our  affections 
on  better  objects,  and  to  form  us  to  such  a  character, 
and  direct  us  to  such  a  course  of  conduct,  as  will  se- 
cure the  divine  approbation,  and  be  most  promotive 
of  our  own  happiness  and  that  of  the  community  of 
which  we  are  members  ?  It  is  the  knowledge  of  our- 
selves, of  human  nature  in  general,  of  our  Creator, 
and  of  the  relations  we  sustain  to  him  and  to  our  fel- 
low-creatures. Of  the  means  of  obtaining  a  knowl- 
edge of  our  Creator,  of  the  relations  we  sustain  to 
him,  and  the  duties  which  result  from  those  relations, 
I  forbear  to  speak  in  this  place.  To  obtain  a  knowl- 
edge of  ourselves  and  of  human  nature  in  general, 
we  must  carefully  observe  what  passes  in  our  own 
minds  and  hearts,  watch  the  motives  of  our  conduct, 
notice  the  conduct  of  those  around  us,  study  the  de- 
lineations of  human  character  contained  in  the  sacred 
pages,  and  guide  all  these  observations  and  inquiries 


I 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

by  a  scientific  acquaintance  with  the  elementary  prin- 
ciples of  intellectual  and  moral  philosophy.  A  scien- 
tific acquaintance  with  first  principles,  is  no  les§ 
important  in  studying  the  human  character  and  in 
forming  rules  of  human  conduct,  than  in  the  observa- 
tions of  the  astronomer  and  the  researches  of  the 
physical  inquirer. 

"  Moral  philosophy  or  Ethics,"  says  Dr.  Paley,  "  is 
that  science  which  teaches  men  their  duty  and  the 
reasons  of  it."  One  advantage  of  making  this  sci- 
ence a  study,  is,  to  lead  the  student  to  reflect  on  the 
nature  of  the  motives  by  which  he  is  habitually  actu- 
ated, and  the  tendency  of  the  course  of  conduct 
which  he  is  daily  pursuing.  Although  the  science 
should  afford  no  new  information  in  regard  to  the 
moral  nature  of  man,  nor  cast  any  new  light  on  (he 
path  of  duty,  yet  the  individual  might  derive  very 
great  benefit  from  being  led  frequently  and  seriously 
to  reflect  on  the  subjects  on  whch  it  treats.  It  is  of 
reflection  rather  than  instruction,  that  many  stand 
most  in  need. 

Another  advantage  of  studying  the  science  of  eth- 
ics, is  the  eff*ect  it  has  on  the  moral  sensibility  of  the 
individual.  As  the  external  senses,  by  frequent  ex- 
ercise and  by  habits  of  attention,  become  more  ready 
in  perceiving  their  appropriate  objects,  and  discrim- 
inating the  various  differences  that  subsist  between 
them ;  so,  by  frequent  exercise  and  by  attending  to 
its  operations,  the  moral  discernment  becomes  more 
ready  and  delicate.  If  refinement  of  taste  in  regard 
to  natural  beauty,  is  so  highly  prized,  of  much  great- 
er value  must  be  this  refinement  and  delicacy  of  the 
moral  taste.  Thus,  the  love  of  virtue  and  the  hatred 
of  vice  more  strongly  and  spontaneously  arise.     The 


16  INTRODUCTION.         "^ 

distinction  between  right  and  wrong  acquires  a  more 
prominent  place  in  the  mind.  The  hand  shrinks  in- 
stinctively from  the  performance  of  a  wrong  action  ; 
and  the  existence  of  wrong  feelings  in  the  breast  is 
followed  by  a  more  ready  and  a  deeper  compunction. 
The  moral  nature  of  man,  is  that  which  peculiarly 
distinguishes  him  from  the  brute  creation.  This,  as 
it  is  virtuous  or  vicious,  either  gives  him  a  deformity 
more  odious  than  brutes  ever  possess,  or  adorns  him 
with  a  beauty  by  which  he  is  assimilated  to  angels  ; 
and  it  will  eventually  either  sink  him  into  the  deep- 
est wretchedness,  or  exalt  him  to  the  highest  fehcity. 
But  there  is  something  in  man,  which  disposes  him  to 
neglect  the  means  of  virtue  and  happiness, — to  neg- 
lect even  those  instructions  and  commands  which 
come  to  us  with  the  authority  of  divine  inspiration. 
Hence,  another  advantage  of  moral  philosophy  is, 
that  it  shows  Reason  to  be  the  friend  and  auxilia- 
ry of  Religion.  It  shows  that  the  dictates  of  Reason 
coincide  with  the  precepts  of  the  Bible.  This  is  a 
consideration,  which  to  the  good  man  indeed  is  less 
necessary,  yet  even  to  him  it  affords  a  satisfaction, 
and  is  not  without  its  use ;  but  by  the  many,  who  are 
uninfluenced  by  the  motives  of  religion,  all  its  weight 
is  needed,  to  excite  them  to  seek  their  own  moral  im- 
provement. Most  men  are  willing  to  study  the  max- 
ims which  point  out  the  path  of  virtue  and  happiness, 
if  those  maxims  can  be  presented  in  connection  with 
the  reasons  by  which  they  are  supported,  and  not  as 
mere  commands  resting  solely  on  the  authority  of 
God.  On  such,  while  their  minds  are  enlightened  in 
regard  to  the  nature  of  virtue  and  vice,  and  they  are 
led  to  reflect  on  the  consequences  of  each,  a  salutary 
effect  can  hardly  fail  to  be  produced. 


I 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

It  Is  in  vain  to  say,  that  the  Bible  is  sufficient  for 
the  moral  improvement  of  mankind,  and  that  there- 
fore books  of  moral  philosophy  are  needless.  We 
might  as  well  say,  that  the  Bible  is  sufficient  for  the 
religious  improvement  of  mankind,  and  that  therefore 
sermons,  and  systems  of  divinity,  and  all  religious 
books  of  human  composition,  are  needless  ;  or  that 
the  law  of  God  is  sufficient  for  the  government  of 
mankind,  and  that  therefore  the  civil  law,  and  all 
human  laws,  are  needless.  If  the  light  and  aid  of 
reason  in  relation  to  human  duty,  are  to  be  rejected, 
then  Paul  was  in  an  error  when  he  '  reasoned  with  the 
Thessalonians  out  of  the  scriptures  ;'*— he  ought  mere- 
ly to  have  read  to  them  out  of  the  scriptures.  We 
might  just  as  well  say,  that  all  the  prophecies  and 
doctrines  of  the  Bible  muot  be  so  plain,  that  there 
can  be  no  need  of  reason  to  explain  the  one  or  to 
prove  the  other,  as  that  all  the  precepts  of  the  Bible 
must  be  so  plain  and  so  minute,  that  there  can  be  no 
need  of  reason  to  illustrate  and  apply  them. 

But  why  is  not  the  law  of  the  land  a  sufficient  rule 
of  life  ?  Many,  indeed,  make  this  their  rule  of  life  ; 
at  least,  they  appear  to  be  "  satisfied  with  themselves, 
so  long  as  they  do  or  omit  nothing,  for  the  doing  or 
omitting  of  which  the  law  can  punish  them.  But  ev- 
ery system  of  human  laws,  considered  as  a  rule  of 
life,  labors  under  the  two  following  defects  : 

1.  Human  laws  omit  many  duties,  as  not  objects  of 
compulsion  ;  such  as  piety  to  God, bounty  to  the  poor, 
forgiveness  of  injuries,  education  of  children,  grati- 
tude to  benefactors.  The  law  never  speaks  but  to 
command,   nor  commands  but  where   it  can  compel ; 

*  Acts,  xvii.  2. 

b2 


18  INTRODUCTIOIIf* 

consequently   it  omits  those   duties,  which,  by  their 
nature,  must  be  voluntary^ 

2.  Human  laws  permit,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing, 
suffer  to  go  unpunished,  many  crimes,  because  they 
are  incapable  of  being  defined  by  any  previous  de- 
scription ; — of  which  nature  are  luxury,  prodigality, 
disrespect  to  parents,  &:c.  For,  this  is  the  alternative ; 
either  the  law  must  define  beforehand  and  with  pre- 
cision the  offences  which  it  punishes,  or  it  must  be 
left  to  the  discretion  of  the  magistrate,  to  determine 
upon  each  particular  accusation,  whether  it  constitute 
that  offence  which  the  law  designed  to  punish,  or  not; 
which  is,  in  effect,  leaving  it  to  the  magistrate  to  pun- 
ish or  not  to  punish,  at  his  pleasure,  the  individual 
who  is  brought  before  him  ; — which  is  just  so  much 
tyranny."*  It  is  evident,  tLerefore,thatby  the  nature 
of  the  case,  the  civil  law  cannot  be  a  complete  direc- 
tory of  human  conduct.  Such,  indeed,  is  the  deprav- 
ity of  man,  that  neither  reason,  nor  revelation,  nor 
the  civil  law,is  sufficient  eflfectually  to  preserve  him  from 
crime,  and  to  make  him  always  virtuous  and  happy. 
The  understanding  may  receive  all  the  light  of  which 
t  is  capable,  yet,  without  a  heart  to  obey  the  dictates 
of  reason  and  the  commands  of  the  Gospel,  mankind 
will  grope  as  in  the  dark.  Moral  Philosophy,  rest- 
ing on  the  principles  of  the  Gospel,  offers  herself  as 
an  auxiliary  in  reforming  the  vicious,  in  enlightening 
the  ignorant,  in  elevating  the  degraded  mind  to  wider 
views,  m  inspiring  the  sordid  breast  with  nobler  pur- 
poses, and  in  guiding  the  consciencious  inquirer  to 
those  beneficent  deeds  and  that  course  of  conduct 
which  will  gratify,  in  the  highest  degree,  the  wishes 
of  his  benevolent  heart. 

♦Paley's  Moral  Philosophy;  Book  I.  Chap.  3. 


k 


THEORY  OF  MORALS. 

CHAPTER  Z. 

Foundation  of  Moral  Distinctionf. 

By  moral  distinctions,  are  intended  those,  which 
are  denoted  by  the  epithets,  '  virtuous'  and  '  vicious,' 
*  right'  and  '  wrong.'  These  terms,  though  applied  also 
to  external  actions,  have  a  primary  reference  to  certain 
internal  feelings,  which  are  the  sources  of  virtuous  and 
vicious  actions,  and  in  which  all  moral  differences  are 
really  to  he  sought.  One  class  of  these  feelings  consists 
of  emotions  of  approbation  and  of  disapprobation.  These 
I  shall  denominate  moral  emotions ;  and  those  feelings ybr 
which  a  man  is  approved  or  disapproved,  I  shall  denom- 
inate moral  feelings.  Moral  emotions,  indeed,  being  vir- 
tuous, are  a  species  of  moral  feelings;  yet  the  distinction 
just  made  between  feelings  and  emotions,  will  be  found 
convenient  in  the  discussions  on  which  we  are  about  to 
enter. 

By  an  emotion  of  approbation^  is  meant  an  emotion  of 
love  toward  a  virtuous  man,  regarded  simply  as  such. 
This  emotion  is,  by  some  writers,  termed  the  love  of 
complacency^  or  complacential  love.  It  is  distinct  from 
benevolence^  or  benevolent  love,  which  regards  its  object 
merely  as  susceptible  of  pleasure  and  pain.  Both  bene- 
volence and  complacency  are  pleasant  emotions, — not,^ 
however,  consisting  in  pleasure,  but  being  immediately 
followed  by  pleasure. 


20  THEORY    or   MORALS. 

An  emotion  of  disapprobation  is  one  that  is  felt  toward 
a  man  regarded  merely  as  possessing  a  certain  character. 
It  is  totally  distinct  from  malevolence^  which  directly  and 
ultimately  desires  the  misery  of  its  object.  Disapproba- 
tion is  usually,  and  malevolence  always,  ^painful  emotion ; 
that  is,  an  emotion  attended  with  pain.  The  pain  arising 
from  «c//'-disapprobation,  is  called  remorse.  When  emo- 
tions of  self-disapprobation  are  more  vivid  than  usual, 
and  accompanied  with  a  greater  degree  of  pain,  and  this 
state  of  mind  continues  ior  some  length  of  time,  it  is 
styled,  in  the  language  of  theology,  conviction  of  sin; 
and  when  the  emotions  of  self-disapprobation  are  such  as 
belong  to  the  class  of  christian  virtues,  they  constitute  re- 
pentunce  of  sin. 

I  now  proceed  to  lay  down  and  establish  a  few  propo- 
sitions, which  appear  to  embrace  the  first  principles  ot 
moral  philosophy. 

I.  Moral  emotions  are  of  a  peculiar  kind. 

The  truth  of  this  proposition,  it  cannot  need  much  il- 
lustration to  show.  Little  more  seems  necessary,  than 
clearly  to  show  what  moral  emotions  are.  The  man  to- 
ward whom  these  emotions  are  felt,  is  regarded  as  being 
amiable  or  odious^  as  possessing  good  or  ill  desert^  as  de- 
serving to  enjoy  happinessn  or  to  sufl'er  pain.  We  feel 
that  there  is  a  fitness  and  propriety  in  making  h^m  happy, 
that  seeks  the  happiness  of  others ;  and  in  making  him 
miserable,  that  desires  to  make  others  so. 

An  emotion  of  approbation  is  distinct  from  the  emo- 
tion that  is  felt  in  view  of  natural  beauty.  The  emotion 
which  I  feel  in  beholding  a  virtuous  action,  is  obviously 
differenl  from  that  which  1  feel  in  looking  at  a  rose.  But 
it  may  be  thought  that  the  emotion  which  is  excited  by 
the  beauty  of  the  human  countenance^  is  often  of  the  same 
kind  with  that  which  is  excited  by  a  virtuous  action.     To 


FOUNDATION   OF    MORAL    DISTINCTIONS.  21 

correct  this  mistake,  it  is  only  necessary  to  distinguish 
between  mere  beauty,  as  consisting  in  colors  and  forms, 
and  that  expression  of  the  countenance,  which  consists  in 
the  ideas  that  are  suggested  by  these  colors  and  forms. 
When  the  countenance  is  such  as  to  suggest  the  idea  of 
an  amiable  disposition,  consisting  in  the  habitual  exercise 
of  virtuous  feelings,  no  wonder  that  an  emotion  of  approba- 
tion should  be  excited.  Here,  however,  it  is  the  virtuous 
heart  that  is  approved, — not  the  beauty  which  is  the 
means  of  suggesting  the  idea  of  this  virtue  to  our  concep- 
tion. Let  an  individual  possess  the  fairest  complexion 
and  the  most  perfect  symmetry  of  features,  and  at  the 
same  time  be  known,  by  intimacy  of  acquaintance,  to  be 
destitute  of  every  virtuous  feeling  ; — how  far  will  a  look 
at  the  beauty  of  the  countenance  be  from  exciting  the 
pleasant  emotion  of  approbation  ! 

Again,  an  emotion  of  approbation  is  distinct  from  the 
emotion  that  is  felt  in  view  of  mere  utility.  The  emo- 
tion which  I  feel  in  beholding  a  virtuous  action,  is  obvi- 
ously different  from  that  which  1  feel  in  looking  at  a 
newly  invented  machine^  The  term  '  approbation'  is,  in- 
deed, sometimes  applied  to  a  machine,  and  to  various 
other  things  which  are  not  virtuous ;  but,  in  these  cases, 
the  word  is  used  in  a  totally  different  sense.  No  one 
would  say  that  a  machine  is  amiable^  that  it  possesses  good 
desert^  or  is  worthy  to  be  happy.  Even  the  beneficent 
actions  of  men  are  approved  as  virtuous,  only  when  re- 
garded as  proceeding  from  a  virtuous  motive.  If,  when 
I  see  an  act  of  beneficence  performed,  I  am  in  doubt  as 
to  the  design  of  the  actor,  and,  for  some  reason,  cannot 
conceive  him  as  acting  with  a  good  design,  I  cannot  feel 
an  emotion  of  approbation.  The  action  appears  no  less 
useful  ih'dn  it  otherwise  would  ;  but  the  performance  of  it 
does  not  render  the  man  amiable  in  my  view. 


22  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

The  emotion  that  is  felt  in  view  of  knowledge  and  tal- 
ents^ is  equally  distinct  from  that  which  is  felt  in  view  of 
virtuous  feelings.  We  may,  indeed,  know  or  conceive  a 
man  to  have  been  influenced  by  virtuous  motives  in  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  and  the  cultivation  of  his  mind  j 
and,  in  this  case,  the  exhibitions  of  his  genius  and  learn- 
ing will,  by  suggesting  to  us  the  idea  of  those  virtuous 
motives,  excite  in  us  an  emotion  of  approbation.  Or  his 
knowledge  and  talents  may  be  employed  in  doing  good  ; 
and  thus  appear  in  a  still  nearer  connection  with  a  virtu- 
ous heart.  But,  in  both  these  cases,  as  in  that  of  the 
beauty  of  the  countenance,  it  is  the  virtuous  heart  only 
that  is  the  object  of  moral  complacency.  Suppose  this 
extensive  knowledge  and  these  superior  talents  to  be 
possessed  by  a  man  who  employs  them  only  in  injuring 
and  making  wretched  all  who  are  within  the  sphere  of 
his  agency  ; — we  feel,  at  once,  that  in  beholding  such  a 
man,  not  one  complacent  emotion  can  arise.  Yet,  if 
knowledge  and  talents  were  objects  of  moral  approbation, 
we  should  feel  this  pleasing  emotion  in  view  of  such  a 
man,  regarded  as  possessing  knowledge  and  talents,  how- 
ever much  disapprobation  we  might  feel  of  him,  regarded 
as  possessing  a  malignant  disposition. 

II.  Moral  feelings  are  of  a  peculiar  kind. 

We  are  so  constituted,  that  we  cannot  help  believing, 
that  there  are  causes  of  the  sensations  and  emotions  which 
we  feel,  distinct  from  those  sensations  and  emotions,  and 
existing  independently  of  them.  This  belief  implies,  that 
^here  is  a  variety  in  those  causes,  corresponding  with  the 
variety  of  sensations  and  emotions.  '''  To  the  union  of 
all  the  external  causes  of  our  sensations,  in  one  great 
system,  we  give  the  name  of  the  material  woWc?.*"*     The 


♦Brown's  Lecturei  on  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  Lecture  26. 


FOUNDATION   OF   MORAL   DISTINCTIONS.  $3 

varieties  of  thoso  caufif*?, — that  is  to  say,  those  cansesr 
themselves,  consi»?ei'ed  ind.vidually,  as  being  different  one 
from  another,— we  call   the  prGperties  or  qualifies  oi  mat- 
ter.     A  certain  nmnbcr  o(  these,  that  have,  by  affecting 
our  senses  at  the  snme  tune,  bfcorae  associated  in  the  mind, 
we  call  a  body.     When  two   bodies  affect  our  senses  dif- 
fereDll7,  we  believe,  of  course,  that  they  are  not  both 
composed  of  precisely  the  same  combinalioo  of  proper- 
ties.    For  example,  we  believe,  that  in  sugar  and  worm- 
wood, there  is  a  difference  of  properties,  which  is  the 
cause  pf  their  affecting  the  p:\late  differently  ; — that  worm- 
wood is  destitute   of  some  of  the  properties  of  sugar,  or 
contains  some   properties  which  sugar  does  not,  or  both. 
If  we  say,  that  the  divine  will  is  the  sole  cause  of  these 
different  sensations,  and   that  they  are  not  owing  to  any 
difference  between  the  sugar  and  the   wormwood,  we 
must,  to  be  consistent,  say,  that  the  divine  will  Is  the  sole 
cause  of  all  our  sensations ;  and  thus  deny  the  existence 
of  the  material  world,  and  of  all  created  beings  beside  our- 
selves.    The  existence  of  secondary  causes  of  our  sea-' 
sations,  cannot  be   proved  by  reasoning ;  neither  can  we 
prove  that  those  secondary  causes  are  different,  one  from 
another.     Both   the  existence  and  the  variety  of  those 
causes,  are  believed  by  us,  because  we  are  so  constituted 
by  our  Creator,  that  the  belief  is  intuitive  and  irresistible. 
In  like  manner,  we  believe,  that  in  the  internal  causes 
of  our  emotions^  there  is  a  variety^  corresponding  with  the 
variety  of  emotions  excited.     Those  feelings,  therefore, 
which  excite  moral  emotions, — that  is,  in  view  of  which 
moral  emotions  arise, — must  be  different  trom  every  thing 
else,  because  there  is  nothing  else  which  occasions  the 
same  emotions;     This  difference  of  those   feelings  from 
every  thing  else,  is  denoted  by  calling  them  7nora/  feel- 
ings, or  by  saying  that  they  are  of  a  moral  nature.     So, 
emotions  of  approbatioa  being  different  from  those  of 


24  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

disapprobation,  the  feelings  which  occasion  the  one  set 
of  emotions,  must  be  different  from  those  which  occasion 
the  other  set  of  emotions ;  and  this  difference  is  denoted 
by  giving  to  the  one  class  of  feelings  the  name  of  virtue^ 
and  to  the  other,  that  of  vice. 

We  learn  the  nature  of  material  things  by  the  sensa- 
tions which  they  excite,  and  the  nature  of  moral  feelings 
by  the  emotions  which  they  excite.  But  there  is  one 
point,  in  which  the  analogy  fails.  We  know  nothing  of 
material  things,  except  through  the  medium  of  our  sensa- 
tions; but  we  have  knowledge  of  our  moral  feelings  by 
consciousness,  as  well  as  by  means  of  our  moral  emotions. 
Although,  therefore,  we  had  been  formed  without  moral 
emotions,  we  should  have  the  same  means  of  distinguish- 
ing our  moral  from  our  other  feelings,  that  we  now  have 
of  distinguishing  our  moral  emotions  from  the  other  men- 
tal phenomena.  Take  benevolence  for  an  example.  We 
might  feel  benevolence  ourselves,  might  enjoy  a  pleasure 
in  the  exercise  of  benevolent  feelings,  and  might  have  a 
conception  of  benevolence  in  others, — thus  knowing  dis- 
tinctly what  benevolence  is ;  but  we  might  not,  as  now, 
love  a  benevolent  man  for  his  benevolence. 

I  find  some  difficulty  in  understanding  what  Dr,  Brown 
means  by  saying,  in  his  remarks  on  the  phrase  '  moral 
sense,'  and  elsewhere,  that  virtue  and  vice  are  mere  re- 
lations to  moral  emotions,  and  that  without  these  emo- 
tions, virtue  and  vice  would  have  no  existence.  He  seems 
to  mean,  that  certain  feelings  become  virtuous  or  the 
contrary  by  being  approved  or  disapproved  ; — that  is  to 
say,  that  a  certain  feeling  is  approved  as  virtuous,  when,  in 
fact,  it  is  not  virtuous  till  it  becomes  so  by  being  approved  ! 

We  might,  as  Dr.  Brown  admits,  have  been  so  consti- 
tuted, that  our  moral  emotions  should  be  reversed, — that 
we  should  uniformly  approve  what  we  now  disapprove, 
and  disapprove  what  we  now  approve.     It  follows,  ac- 


FOUNDATION    OP    MORAL    DISTINCTIONS.  25 

cording  to  his  ideas  of  virtue  and  vice,  that  what  is  now 
vice,  would  really  then  be  virtue,  and  that  what  is  now 
virtue,  would  then  be  vice  ;  that  is,  that  if  all  men  really 
approved  malevolence  and  disapproved  benevolence, 
there  would  be  nothing  absurd  or  incongruous  in  such 
approbation  and  disapprobation,  but  malevolence  would 
really  be  worthy  to  be  loved,  because  we  were  so  consti- 
tuted as  actually  to  love  it,  and  benevolence  would  really 
be  worthy  to  be  hated^  because  we  were  so  constituted  as 
actually  to  hate  it.  The  truth  is,  virtue  and  vice  have 
each  a  nature  of  its  own,  which  makes  it  to  be  virtue  or 
vice,  whether  it  be  viewed  with  approbation,  or  disap- 
probation, or  neither.  If  all  our  moral  emotions  should 
cease,  and  if  the  terms  '  virtue'  and  ^  vice'  should  cease, 
still,  the  things  which  those  terms  now  denote,  if  they 
continued  to  exist,  as  they  might,  would  possess  the  same 
distinct  and  opposite  nature  as  at  present.  The  means 
of  discovering  moral  differences  might  cease ;  but  the  dif- 
ferences themselves  would  remain  forever  the  same. 

in.  All  men^  without  exception,  feel  moral  emotions. 

The  evidence  that  they  do,  is  the  same,  as  that  all  men 
feel  emotions  of  any  other  particular  kind,  as  of  beautj', 
or  sympathy.  We  know  that  we  feel  these  emotions 
ourselves ;  and  we  have  all  the  evidence  that  the  nature 
of  the  case  admits,  that  they  are  felt  by  all  mankind.  It 
is  as  incredible,  that  any  one,  who  belongs  to  the  human 
species,  should  never  feel  an  emotion  of  approbation  or 
of  disapprobation,  in  view  of  the  actions  of  others,  or  in 
the  recollection  of  his  own,  as  that  any  one  should  regard 
all  objects  of  sight  as  being  perfectly  indifferent  to  the 
eye,  or  should  witness  the  sorrows  and  joys,  the  desires 
and  aversions,  of  his  fellow  creatures,  without  ever  hav- 
ing one  congenial  emotion  excited  in  his  breast. 
c 


26  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

IV.  The  same  feelings  are  always  approved^  and  the 
same  always  disapproved. 

The  meaning  of  this  proposition  is,  that  a  man,  who 
performs  a  certain  action  from  certain  motives,  cannot 
feel,  on  account  of  the  action,  an  emotion  of  self  apppro- 
bation  at  one  time,  and  of  self-condemnation  at  another, — 
his  views  of  the  motives  from  which  the  action  was  per- 
formed, remaining  the  same  ;  or,  that  two  men,  possessing 
the  same  views  of  the  motives  which  led  to  the  perform- 
ance of  an  action,  cannot  regard  the  agent,  the  one  with 
a  sentiment  of  moral  approbation,  and  the  other  with  a 
sentiment  of  moral  disapprobation.  I  shall  do  little  more 
on  this  subject,  than  to  give  an  explanation  of  those  ap- 
pearances which  seem  to  favor  the  contrary  opinion. 

1.  It  is  to  be  remarked,  that  though  all  men  feel  moral 
emotions ;  yet  all  do  not  feel  them  in  every  instance, 
in  which  an  action,  suited  to  excite  them,  is  present- 
ed to  the  view.  "  There  are  moments," — to  use  the 
words  of  Dr.  Brown, — ''  in  which  the  mind  is  wholly 
incapable  of  perceiving  moral  differences; — that  is  to 
say,  in  which  the  emotions  that  constitute  the  feeling 
of  these  moral  differences,  do  not  arise.  Such  are 
all  the  moments  of  very  violent  passion.  When  the  im- 
petuosity of  the  passion  is  abated,  indeed,  we  perceive 
that  we  have  done  what  we  now  look  upon  with  horror ; 
but  when  our  passion  was  most  violent,  we  were  truly 
blinded  by  it,  or  at  least  saw  only  what  it  permitted  us  to 
see.  The  moral  emotion  has  not  arisen,  because  the 
whole  soul  was  occupied  w'th  a  different  species  of  feel- 
ing. The  moral  distinctions,  however,  or  general  ten- 
dencies of  actions  to  excite  this  emotion,  are  not  on  this 
account  less  certain ;  or  we  must  say,  that  the  truths  of 
arithmetic,  and  all  other  truths,  are  uncertain,  since  the 


FOUNDATION    OF    MORAL    DISTINCTIONS.  27 

mind,  ill  a  state  of  passion,  would  be  equally  incapable  of 
distinguishing  these."* 

It  also  seems  probable,  that  even  when  the  mind  is  not 
blinded  by  extreme  passion,  moral  emotions  are  far  from 
rising  invariably  in  vie-v  of  virtuous  and  vicious  actions. 
There  appears  to  be  such  a  thing  as  moral  insensibility ; — 
in  consequence  of  which,  most  men  can  sometimes,  and 
some  men  can  habitually,  view  a  virtuous  or  vicious  ac- 
tion without  feeling  any  moral  emotion.  The  apostle, 
using  figurative  language,  speaks  of  men,  '^  whose  con- 
science is  seared  with  a  hot  iron  ;"  which  seems  to  de- 
note a  callous,  torpid  state  of  the  heart,  without  any 
susceptibility  of  moral  emotion.! 

2.  There  is  an  apparent  contrariety  in  the  moral  emo- 
tions of  men,  arising  from  the  complexity  of  actions.  There 
are  many  "  actions," — to  borrow  again  the  language  of 
Dr.  Brown, — "  which  are  so  complex  as  to  have  various 
opposite  results  of  good  and  evil,  or  of  which  it  is  not 
easy  to  trace  the  consequences.  An  action,  when  it  is  the 
object  of  our  moral  approbation  or  disapprobation,  is  the 
agent  himself,  acting  with  certain  views.  These  views, 
that  is  to  say,  the  intentionsof  the  agent,  are  necessary  to 
be  taken  into  account,  or,  rather,  are  the  great  moral 
circumstances  to  be  considered ;  and  the  intention  is  not 
visible  to  us  like  the  external  changes  produced  by  it, 
but  is,  in  many  cases,  to  be  inferred  from  the  apparent 
results.  When  these  results,  therefore,  are  too  obscure, 
or  too  complicated,  to  furnish  clear  and  immediate  evi- 
dence of  the  intention,  we  may  pause  in  estimating  ac- 
tions, which  we  should  not  fail  to  have  approved  instantly, 
or  disapproved  instantly,  if  we  had  known  the  intention 
of  the  agent,  or  could  have  inferred  it  more  easily  from 
a  simpler  result ;  or,  by  fixing  our  attention  chiefly  on 


*  Brown's  Pbilosophy,  Lect.  74.     f  1  Tim.  iv.  2.     See  alsoEph.iv:  19 


uititbrsit: 


28  THEORY    OF    MORALS, 

one  part  of  the  complex  result,  that  was  perhaps  not  the 
part  which  the  agent  had  in  view,  we  may  condemn  what 
was  praiseworthy,  or  applaud  what  deserved  our  condem- 
nation. If  the  same  individual  may  thus  have  different 
moral  sentiments,  according  to  the  different  parts  of  the 
complex  result  on  which  his  attention  may  have  been 
fixed,  it  is  surely  not  wonderful,  that  different  individuals, 
in  regarding  the  same  action,  should  sometimes  approve, 
in  like  manner,  and  disappprove  variously,  not  because 
the  principle  of  moral  emotion,  as  an  original  tendency 
of  the  mind,  is  absolutely  capricious,  but  because  the  ac- 
tion considered,  though  apparently  the  same,  is  really  dif- 
ferent as  an  object  of  conception  in  different  minds  ac- 
cording to  the  parts  of  the  mixed  result  which  attract  the 
chief  attention. 

Such  partial  views,  it  is  evident,  may  become  the  views 
of  a  whole  nation,  from  the  peculiar  circumstances  in 
which  the  nation  may  be  placed  as  to  other  nations,  or 
from  peculiarity  of  general  institutions.  The  legal  per- 
mission of  theft  in  Sparta,  for  example,  may  seem  to  us^ 
with  our  pacific  habits,  and  security  of  police,  an  excep- 
tion to  that  moral  principle  of  disapprobation  for  which 
I  contend.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt,  that  theft,  as  mere 
theft,  or,  in  other  words,  as  a  mere  production  of  a  cer- 
tain quantity  of  evil  by  one  individual  to  another  individ- 
ual,— if  it  never  had  been  considered  in  relation  to  any 
political  object,  would  in  Sparta  also,  have  excited  dis- 
approbation as  with  us.  As  a  mode  of  inuring  to  habits 
of  vigilance  a  warlike  people,  however,  it  might  be 
considered  in  a  very  different  light ;  the  evil  of  the 
loss  of  property, — though  in  itself  an  evil  to  the  individ- 
ual, even  in  a  country  in  which  differences  of  property 
were   so  slight, — being  nothing  in  this  estimate,  when 


FOUNDATION    OF    MORAL    DISTINCTIONS.  29 

compared  with  the   more  important  national  accession  of 
military  virtue."* 

"  When  the  usages  of  a  country  allow  the  exposure  of 
infants,  is  it  not  still  lor  some  reason  of  advantage  to  the 
community,  falsely  supposed  to  require  it,  that  the  per- 
mission is  given  ?  Or  is  it  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  de- 
priving the  individual  inflint  of  life,  and  of  adding  a  few 
more  suflerings  to  the  general  sufferings  of  humanity  ? 
"Where  is  the  land  that  says,  Let  misery  be  produced,  or 
increased,  because  it  is  misery  ?  Let  the  production  of 
happiness  to  an  individual  be  avoided,  because  it  is  hap- 
piness ?  Then,  indeed,  might  the  distinctions  of  morality 
in  the  emotions  which  attend  the  production  of  good  and 
evil,  be  allowed  to  be  wholly  accidental.  But  if  nature 
has  everywhere  made  the  prodiiction  of  good  desirable 
for  itself,  and  the  production  of  evil  desirable, — when  it 
is  desired  and  a[)proved, — only  because  it  is  accompanied, 
or  supposed  to  be  accompanied,  with  good,  the  very  de- 
sire of  the  compound  of  good  and  evil,  on  this  account, 
is  itself  a  proof,  not  of  love  of  evil,  but  of  love  of  good. 
It  is  pleasing  thus  to  find  nature,  in  the  wildest  excesses 
of  savage  ignorance,  and  in  those  abuses  to  which  the  im- 
perfect knowledge  even  of  civilized  nations  sometimes 
gives  rise,  still  vindicating  as  it  were  her  own  excellence, 
— in  the  midst  of  vice  and  misery  asserting  still  those 
sacred  principles,  which  are  the  virtue  and  the  happiness 
of  nations, — principles  of  which  that  very  misery  and  vice 
attest  the  power,  whether  in  the  errors  of  multitudes  who 
have  sought  evil  for  some  supposed  good,  or  in  the  guilt 
of  individuals,  who,  in  abandoning  virtue,  still  offer  to  it 
an  allegiance  which  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  withhold, 
in  the  homa^^e  of  their  lemorse. 


*  Browu's  Philosophy,  Lect.  74. 

c2 


30  THEORY    OF    MORALS- 

It  never  mu«t  be  forgotten,  in  estimating  the  moral  im- 
pression which  actions  produce,  that  an  action  is  nothing 
in  itself, — that  all  which  we  truly  consider  in  it  is  the 
agent  placed  in  certain  circumstances,  feeling  certain  de- 
sires, willing  certain  changes, — and  that  our  approbation 
and  disapprobation  may  therefore  vary,  without  any  fickle- 
ness on  our  part,  merely  in  consequence  of  the  different 
views  which  we  form  of  the  intention  of  the  agent.  In 
every  complicated  case,  therefore,  it  is  so  far  from  won- 
derful, that  different  individuals  should  judge  differently, 
that  it  would,  indeed,  be  truly  wonderful  if  they  should 
judge  alike,  since  it  would  imply  a  far  nicer  measurement 
than  any  of  which  we  are  capable,  of  the  mixed  good 
and  evil  of  the  complex  results  of  human  action,  and  a 
power  of  discerning  what  is  secretly  passi*>g  in  the  heart, 
which  man  does  not  possess,  and  which  it  is  not  easy  for 
us  to  suppose  man,  in  any  circumstances,  capable  of 
possessing.  ^ 

3.  There  is  sometimes  an  apparent  disagreement  in  the 
moral  sentiments  of  men,  arising  irom  the  imperfection  of 
language.  Words  which  denote  the  operations  of  the 
mind  and  the  feelings  of  the  heart,  are  frequently  under- 
stood differently  by  different  persons.  This  difference 
appears  to  arise  from  the  circumstance,  that  an  emotion 
or  desire  cannot  be  perceived,  at  the  same  moment,  by 
different  individuals.  If  a  question  arise  concerning  the 
color  of  a  certain  flower,  the  flower  can  be  produced,  and 
^  simultaneous  view  of  it  will  at  once  bring  the  parties 
to  an  agreement  on  the  subject.  But  if  a  question  arise 
whether  a  certain  emotion  or  desire,  anger  for  instance, 
be  innocent  or  criminal,  the  parties  have  no  such  means 
of  coming  to  a  decision.  They  may  not  both  mean  the 
same  thing  by   anger  ;  and  may  be  unable  to  ascertain 


FOUNDATION    OF    MORAL    DISTINCTIONS.  31 

whether  they  do  or  not.  In  like  manner,  disputes  re- 
specting various  things  which  are  not  subject  to  the  cogniz- 
ance of  the  senses,  frequently  arise,  not  from  any  real 
difference  of  sentiment,  but  solely  from  the  parties,  not 
being  able,  or  more  frequently  not  taking  proper  means, 
to  understand  one  another. 

4.  Men  are  liable  to  err  in  judging  of  their  own  past 
feelings  through  a  fault  in  the  memory.  Moral  feelings 
and  moral  emotions,  in  most  men,  receive  little  attention 
and  are  soon  forgotten.  Various  operations  of  the  mind, 
frequently,  from  not  being  objects  of  attention,  pass  away 
without  being  remembered  a  moment.*  We  need  not 
wonder,  then,  that  in  a  being  so  depraved  as  man,  moral 
feelings  and  emotions  should  be  neglected  and  forgotten ; 
that  in  one  so  little  disposed  to  listen  to  the  whispers  of 
conscience,  those  whispers  should  fall  unheeded  on  the 
ear,  and  soon  pass  into  oblivion.  And  this  inattention,  as 
it  respects  the  moral  emotions,  is^  increased  by  the  cir- 
cumstance, that  those  emotions  ar'^  usually  less  vivid^  than 
the  other  emotions  that  arise  in  the  breast.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  in  this,  as  in  other  cases,  when  a  man  en- 
deavors to  recollect  things,  to  which  he  did  not  sufficient- 
ly attend  to  impress  them  on  the  memory,  he  falls  into 
frequent  mistakes.  That  which  he  conceives,  is  not  that 
which  really  was.  If  he  felt  a  feeble  emotion  of  disap- 
probation at  the  time  of  performing  an  action,  he  now, 
perhaps,  conceives  himself  to  have  felt  an  emotion  of 
approbation  ;  and  hence  concludes,  that  the  motives  from 
which  be  acted  were  good.  Or  if,  sensible  that  he  can- 
not recollect  his  moral  emotions,  he  endeavors  to  recol- 
lect his  moral  feelings,  he  falls  into  a  mistake  of  the  same 
kind.  His  motives  may,  in  fact,  have  been  bad  ;  but, 
they  being  forgotten,  good  motives,  perhaps,  arise  to  his 


^ee  Stewart  on  Attention,  in  bis  Philoiopby  of  the  Mind. 


32  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

conception;  and,  in  view  of  these,  he  feels  an  emotion 
of  self-approbation.  The  feelings  of  which  he  approves, 
are  really  virtuous  ;  but  they  are  feelings  that  were  not 
his.  The  mistake  lies  in  conceiving  himself  to  have  ex- 
perienced feelings  which  he  did  not  experience. 

5.  Moral  emotions  are  frequently  influenced  by  associa- 
tion. The  words  'justice,'  'injustice,'  &c.,  denote  classes 
of  actions.  Suppose  we  see  or  hear  of  an  action  that  be- 
longs to  "  a  class  that  we  term  unjust^  we  feel  instantly," 
to  use  the  words  of  Dr  Brown,  "  not  the  mere  emotion 
which  the  action  of  its$ilf  would  originiily  have  excited, 
but  we  feel  also  that  emotion  which  has  been  associated 
with  the  class  of  actions  to  which  the  particular  action 
belongs  ;  isnd  though  the  action  may  be  of  a  kind,  which, 
if  we  had  formed  no  general  arrangement,  would  have 
excited  but  slight  emotion,  as  implying  no  very  great  in- 
jury produced  or  intended,  it  thus  excites  a  far  more 
vivid  feeling,  by  borrowing,  as  it  were,  from  other  analo- 
gous and  more  atrocious  actions,  that  are  comprehend- 
ed under  the  same  general  term,  the  feeling  which  they 
would  originally  have  excited."* 

Association  operates  in  a  different  manner,  when  an 
action,  apparently  vicious,  is  performed  by  one  whom  we 
know  to  possess  many  excellent  qualities,  especially  if  the 
person  is  one  whom  we  love.  Seeing  the  action  di)ne  by 
hirnn  the  many  virtues  which  we  know  or  believe  him  to 
possess,  rush  into  our  mind,  and  exclude  those  suggestions 
of  bad  motives,  which  would  otherwise  arise.  The  mere 
habit  of  regarding  his  actions  as  proceeding  from  good 
motives,  is  sufficient  to  lead  us  to  ascribe  them  to  such, 
even  in  cases  where  an  impartial  spectator  would  see  ev- 
idence of  an  evil  design. 


*Bron'n's  Pliilosophy,  LeJt,  74. 


FOUNDATION    OF    MORAL   DISTINCTIONS.  33 

The  view  we  have  taken  of  the  subject,  is,  I  trust,  suf- 
ficient to  obviate  every  objection  to  the  position,  that, 
though,  while  the  external  act  is  the  same,  an  emotion  ei- 
ther of  approbation  or  of  disapprobation  may  arise,  ac- 
cording to  the  conceptions  that  are  formed  of  the  design 
of  the  actor,  yet  the  same  jnotives^  the  same  moral  feelings^ 
are,  if  any  moral  emotion  arises,  always  approved,  and 
the  same  always  disapproved.  If  we  should  admit  this 
not  to  be  the  case,  we  must  give  a  new  definition  of  vir- 
tue. We  must  say,  that  those  feelingA  are  virtuous,  in 
view  of  which  an  emotion  of  approbation  arises  more 
frequently  than  of  disapprobation.  And  if  any  individual 
should  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  feel  a  disapprobation  of 
virtue  as  often  as  an  approbation  of  it,  he  must,  in  order  to 
come  at  the  truth,  disregard  his  own  moral  emotions  al- 
together, and  inquire  what  are  the  feelings  which  man- 
kind m  general  approve. — Now  it  must  he  impossible,  in 
many  instances,  for  a  man  to  know  whether  a  certain 
emotion  which  he  feels,  harmonizes  with  those  which  he 
has  usually  felt  in  similar  circumstances.  If  the  feel- 
ings, of  whose  moral  nature  he  would  judge,  are  some 
which  he  has  never  had  before,  or  which  he  cannot  re- 
collect that  he  ever  had  before,  he  is  utterly  unable  to 
ascertain  whether  they  are  virtuous  or  the  contrary. 
If  he  has  reason  to  apprehend  that  the  moral  emotions 
which  he  habitually  feels,  are  not  accordant  with  those 
of  mankind  in  general,  the  difficulty  of  ascertaining  the 
moral  nature  of  particular  feelings,  must  he  greatly  in- 
creased ;  and  the  instances  must  be  numerous,  in  which 
it  is  impossible  even  to  form  a  probable  conjecture 
whether  a  particular  feeling  be  virtuous  or  not. 

It  seems  to  me  incredible,  that  He  who  has  formed 
man  to  be  subject  to  a  moral  law,  should  so  constitute 
the  mind  of  any  individual,  that  he  shall  experience 
moral  emotions  whose  only  use  is  to  deceive  ;  and  that  he 


34  THEORY    OF   MORALS. 

shall  be,  many  limes,  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  judging 
erroneously,  if  he  judges  at  all,  of  the  nature  of  his  mor- 
al feelings.  It  avails  nothing  for  a  man,  when  subject  to 
such  a  moral  delusion,  to  examine  his  motives  with  a  close, 
and  impartial,  and  faithful  scrutiny  ;  fur  after  all,  he  will 
feel,  perhaps,  a  vivid  emotion  of  self-approbation  in  act- 
ing from  motives,  which  all  the  world  beside  and  God 
himself  would  agree  in  condemning.  Those  very  de- 
sires and  affections,  which,  at  another  time,  he  would  feel 
to  be  criminal,  he  now  feels  to  be  amiable  and  commend- 
able. This  is  indeed, — in  a  worse  sense  even  than  that  in- 
tended by  St.  Paul, — to  be  given  up  to  ^'  strong  delusion, 
so  as  to  believe  a  lie." 

The  views  that  have  been  taken  in  this  chapter,  will 
afford  a  solution  of  three  questions  that  have  been  discus- 
sed by  writers  on  ethics  : 

1.  Is  conscience  a  distinct  faculty  of  the  mind? 

2.  Is  it  an  original  faculty  of  the  mind  ? 

3.  Is  conscience  ever  erroneous  ? 

These  three  questions  correspond  with  the  first,  third, 
and  fourth  general  heads  of  the  present  chapter.  I  shall 
make  a  few  remarks  upon  each  in  order. 

1.  Is  conscience  a  distinct  faculty  of  the  mind  ? 

Here  a  preliminary  question  arises  ;  What  is  a  faculty 
of  the  mind  ?  In  reply,  I  would  observe,  that  the  words, 
^  intellect,'  '  heart,'  '  reason,'  '  conscience,'  are  general 
terms,  invented  to  denote  certain  classes  of  mental  phe- 
nomena. The  mind  is  endued  with  various  powers  and 
susceptibilities,  or,  in  other  words,  is  capable  of  existing 
in  a  great  variety  of  states.  Of  these  various  states,  some 
are  similar  to  one  another,  and  some  are  dissimilar. 
I'hey  are,  therefore,  capable  of  being  classed,  by  assign- 
ing to  each  class  those  phenomena  which  possess  a  simi- 
larity  one   to  another.     A  faculty   of   the    mind,   there- 


FOUNDATION    OF    MORAL    DISTINCTIONS.  35 

fore,  is  not  a  part  of  the  mind,  or  an  organ  of  the 
mind,  but  the  indivisible  mind  itself,  regarded  as  capa- 
ble of  exhibiting,  or  as  actually  exhibiting,  a  certain 
class  of  phenomena.  A  knowledge  of  the  mind  can  be  gain- 
ed only  by  a  careful  observation  of  the  phenomena  which 
it  exhibits.  Without  this  observation  of  the  phenomena 
themselves,  the  general  terms  used  to  denote  them, — in 
other  words,  the  terms  which  are  used  as  names  of  the 
faculties, — must  be  unintelligible.  Much  perplexity  has 
arisen,  from  attenipting  to  study  the  philosophy  of  the 
mind,  merely  by  reading  about  the  faculties,  and  laboring 
to  determine  the  precise  limits  of  these  faculties,  without 
looking  into  the  mind  itself.  To  him  who  knows  how  to 
apply  the  inductive  philosophy  to  the  study  of  the  mind, 
it  is  comparatively  unimportant,  whether  the  mind  be 
considered  as  having  a  greater  or  a  less  number  of  facul- 
ties. In  some  instances,  faculties  which  really  exist,  have 
remained  without  a  name  ;  but  in  a  greater  number  of  in- 
stances, faculties  have  been  ascribed  to  the  mind  without 
foundation.  Moral  feelings  are  the  most  important  of  all 
the  classes  of  mental  phenomena  ;  yet  the  moral  faculty 
has  never  received  a  name  ;  nor  has  any  material  incon- 
venience arisen  from  the  want  of  a  general  term  appro- 
priated to  this  purpose.  When  we  wish  to  speak  of  man 
as  being  susceptible  of  moral  feelings,  it  is  sufficient  to 
say  that  he  is  a  '  moral  agent.'  To  denote  the  class  ot 
moral  emotions,  however,  the  term  '  conscience  Ms  gener- 
ally used.  The  phrase  ^  moral  sense^  has  been  used  for 
the  same  purpose  by  some  writers.  These  terms,  how 
ever,  appear  not  to  be  used  by  all  to  include  precisely 
the  «ame  class  of  mental  phenomena  ;  and  this  is  an  evil, 
which,  though  of  no  small  magnitude,  is  many  times  in- 
separable from  the  use  of  general  terms.  1  prefer  to  use 
the  term  '  conscience'  as  denoting  the  class  of  moral  emo- 
tions ;  and  taking  it  in  this  sense,  it  is  certainly  a  distinct 
faculty  of  the  mind. 


36  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

Dr.  Brown  objects  to  the  phrase  '  moral  sense,'  that 
the  class  of  mental  affections  intended  to  be  denoted  by 
it,  consists  of  emotions^  not  of  sensations  or  perceptions  an- 
alogous to  those  of  the  external  senses.  But  although 
the  phrase  is  not  to  be  used  in  a  philosophic  classification 
of  the  mental  phenomena,  yet  it  may,  without  impropri- 
ety, be  used  metaphorically.  Natural  beauty,  as  dis- 
tinct from  the  colors  and  forms  of  external  objects,  con- 
sists wholly  in  a  peculiar  emotion  of  the  mind  ;  yet  it  is 
common  to  speak  of  seeing  or  perceiving  the  beauty  of  an 
object.  In  like  manner,  the  amiableness  of  virtue  is  de- 
nominated moral  beauty^  and  we  speak  of  seeing  or  per- 
ceiving this  beauty.  And  if  there  is  a  moral  beauty  and 
a  moral  vision,  there  must,  of  course,  be  a  inoral  eye^ — 
in  othei  words,  a  '  moral  sense  '  Dr.  Brown,  though  he 
avoids  the  phrase  '  moral  sense,'  yet  admits  that  it  may  ] 
be  used  metaphorically,  and  actually  uses  metaphors  of 
equivalent  import.  He  speaks  of '  perceiving  moral  differ- 
ences,' and  of  being  *•  blinded  to  moral  distinctions.'  If, 
therefore,  1  should  find  it  convenient  to  use  metaphors  of  j 
this  kind,  I  shall  feel  myself  at  liberty  to  do  it,  without 
trespassing  against  propriety  of  language. 

The  following  observations  of  Dr.  Brown,  illustrate  the 
distinction  between  conscience  and  reason  ;  and  define 
the  limits  of  the  two  faculties,  in  relation  to  each  other  : 

''  If  all  the  actions  of  which  man  is  capable,  had  ter- 
minated in  one  simple  result  of  good  or  evil,  without  any 
mixture  of  both,  or  any  further  consequences,  reason,  I 
conceive,  would  have  been  of  no  advantage  whatever  in 
determining  moral  sentiments,  that  must,  in  that  case, 
have  arisen  immediately  on  the  consideration  of  the  sim- 
ple effect,  and  of  the  will  of  producing  that  simple  effect. 
Of  the  intentional  production  of  good,  as  good,  we  should 
have  approved  instantly — of  the  intentional  production  of 
evil,  as  evil,  we  should  as  instantly  have  disapproved  ; 


FOUNDATION    OF    MORAL    DISTINCTIONS.  37 

and  reason  could  not,  in  such  circumstances,  have  taught 
us  to  love  the  one  more,  or  hate  the  other  less ; — certain- 
ly not  to  love  what  we  should  otherwise  have  hated,  nor 
to  hate  what  we  should  otherwise  have  loved.  But  ac- 
tions have  not  one  simple  result,  in  most  cases.  In  pro- 
ducing enjoyment  to  some,  they  may  produce  misery  to 
others, — either  by  consequences  that  are  less  or  more  re- 
mote, or  by  their  own  immediate  but  compound  opera- 
tion. It  is  impossible,  therefore,  to  discover  instantly,  or 
certainly,  in  any  particular  case,  the  intention  of  the  a- 
gent  from  the  apparent  result  ;  and  impossible  for  our 
selves  to  know,  instantly,  when  we  wish  to  perform  a 
particular  action,  for  a  particular  end,  whether  it  may  not 
produce  more  evil  than  good, — when  the  good  was  our 
only  object, — or  more  good  than  evil,  when  our  object 
was  the  evil  only.  Reason,  therefore, — that  power  by 
which  we  discover  the  various  relations  of  things,  comes 
to  our  aid  ;  and,  pointing  out  to  us  all  the  probable  physi- 
cal consequences  of  actions,  shows  us  the  good  of  what  we 
might  have  conceived  to  be  evil,  the  evil  of  what  we 
might  have  conceived  to  be  good,  weighing  each  with 
each,  and  calculating  the  preponderance  of  either.  It 
thus  influences  our  moral  feelings  indirectly;  but  it  influ- 
ences them  only  by  presenting  to  us  new  objects,  to  be 
admired  or  hated,  and  still  addresses  itself  to  a  principle 
which  admires  or  hates.  Like  a  telescope,  or  microscope, 
it  shows  us  what  was  too  distant,  or  too  minute,  to  come 
within  the  sphere  of  our  simple  vision ;  but  it  does  not 
alter  the  nature  of  vision  itself.  The  best  telescope,  or 
the  best  microscope,  could  give  no  aid  to  the  blind. 
They  imply  the  previous  power  of  visual  discernment, 
or  they  are  absolutely  useless.  Reason,  in  like  manner, 
supposes  in  us  a  discriminating  vision  of  another  kind. 
By  pointing  out  to  us  innumerable  advantages  or  disad- 
vantages, that  flow  from  an  action,  it  may  heighten  or  re- 

D 


S6  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

(luce  our  approbation  of  the  action,  and  consequently,  our 
estimate  of  the  virtue  of  him  whom  we  suppose  to  have 
had  this  whole  amount  of  good  or  evil  in  view,  in  his  in- 
tentional production  of  it ;  but  it  does  this  only  because 
we  are  capable  of  feeling  moral  regard  for  the  intention- 
al producer  of  happiness  to  others,  independently  of  any 
analyses  which  reason  may  make."* 

2.  Is  conscience  an  original  faculty  of  the  mind  ? 

In  saying  that  it  is,  I  only  mean,  in  the  words  of  Dr. 
Brown,  "  that  we  come  into  existence  with  certain  sus- 
ceptibilities of  emotion,  in  consequence  of  which,  it 
will  be  impossible  for  us,  in  after  life,  but  for  the  influ- 
ence of  counteracting  circumstances,  momentary  or  per- 
manent, not  to  be  pleased  with  the  contemplation  of  cer- 
tain actions  as  soon  as  they  have  become  fully  known  to 
us,  and  not  to  have  feelings  of  disgust,  on  the  contempla- 
tion of  certain  other  actions."!  Any  faculty  or  power 
is  properly  denominated  original  and  natural^  which  is 
called  into  exercise  in  every  individual  to  whom  suitable 
occasions  for  its  exercise  are  afforded.  It  is  not  necessa- 
ry that  a  faculty,  in  order  to  be  termed  original,  should 
be  exercised  as  soon  as  a  human  being  begins  to  exist, 
any  more  than  that  it  should  be  exercised  at  every  mo- 
ment during  his  whole  subsequent  life.  If,  when  an  infant  is 
born,  we  can  predict,  that  in  ca§e  opportunities  are  af- 
forded, he  will  certainly  be  the  subject  of  certain  sensa- 
tions or  emotions,  it  is  sufficient  to  render  it  proper  to 
apply  the  epithets  '  original'  and  '  naturaP  to  that  faculty 
or  power  to  which  those  sensations  or  emotions  are  as- 
cribed. However  desirable  it  may  be  to  the  parent, 
therefore,  as  an  auxiliary  in  early  education,  to  know  at 
what  period  and  on  what  occasions  moral  feelings  and 
moral  emotions  first  arise  in  the  breast  of  his  child,  it  is 


*Brown's  Philosophy,  Lect.  76.     f  Brown's  Philosophy^  Lect.  74. 


FOUNDATION    OF    MORAL    DISTINCTIONS.  39 

of  no  consequence  at  all  in  determining  the  question 
whether  the  moral  faculties  are  original  and  natural,  or 
accidental  and  acquired  properties  of  human  nature, 

I  would  take  this  opportunity  to  remark,  that  when  we 
tell  how  God  has  constituted  or  formed  the  mind,  or  speak 
of  the  original  lendencies  which  he  has  given  it,  our 
meaning  is  not,  that  the  mind  has  any  resemblance  to  a 
machine,  which  is  so  constructed^  that  it  will,  of  itself, 
gradually  develope  certain  results  ;  or  to  the  germ  of  a 
plant,  which  contains,  in  miniature,  the  various  parts 
which  are  to  be  unjolded  to  view  in  the  progress  of  veg- 
etation ; — but  we  mean  simply  to  declare  the  fact,  that 
every  human  mind,  which  God  has  created,  exhibits,  in 
certain  circumstances,  certain  phenomena.  To  ascribe 
any  of  these  phenomena,  therefore,  to  the  original  con- 
stitution or  tendencies  of  the  mind,- -in  other  words,  to 
say  that  these  take  place  because  the  mind  has  been  so 
constituted  by  the  Author  of  its  being,  is  to  make  an 
event  or  a  series  of  events  the  cause  of  itself. 

To  conclude,  I  would  inquire  of  those  who  say  that 
conscience  is  wholly  acquired — that  it  is  merely  the 
creature  of  education — whether  they  believe  that  a  child 
can  be  so  educated,  as  to  think  that  he  merits  the  favor 
both  of  God  and  man,  by  doing  to  others,  in  all  respects, 
just  the  contrary  of  what  he  would  wish  them  to  do  to 
him. 

It  seems  to  be  the  object  of  some,  who  are  fond  of 
maintaining  that  conscience  is  wholly  acquired,  and  may 
receive  any  modification  whatever  from  accidental  cir- 
cumstances, to  cast  off  the  restraints  of  morality  and  re- 
ligion. They  may,  indeed,  cast  off  these  restraints  ;  they 
may  habitually  stifle  the  voice  of  conscience ; — but  let 
them  remember,  that  their  moral  feelings  do  not  cease  to 
arise,  because  their  moral  emotions  are  suspended,  and 
that  the  eye  of  Omniscience  does  not  cease  to  view  their 


40  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

character  as  it  is,  because  they  have  become  blind  to  it 
themselves. 

3.  Is  conscience  ever  erroneous? 

The  various  causes  which  have  led  many  to  believe 
that  conscience  may  be  perverted  and  erroneous,  have 
been  considered  at  some  length  under  the  fourth  general 
head  of  this  chapter.  Such  errors  as  these,  however, 
are  not  properly  ascribed  to  conscience.  If  there  is  any 
man,  however  depraved,  who  really  thinks  that  benevo- 
lence is  a  hateful  thing,  and  that  a  man  deserves  to  be 
punished  for  loving  his  fellow  creatures  and  promoting 
their  happiness  ;  and  who,  on  the  other  hand,  thinks 
that  malevolence  is  an  amiable  quality,  and  that  it  is  a 
duty  to  hate  and  torment,  as  far  as  lies  in  our  power, 
every  being  that  exists ;  then,  I  will  acknowledge  that 
conscience  may  be  erroneous. 

In  treating  of  moral  distinctions,  I  have,  in  conformi- 
ty to  the  ideas  of  Dr.  Brown,  spoken  only  of  moral  feel- 
ings and  moral  emotions.  These,  however,  seem  not  to 
include  all  the  moral  phenomena  of  the  mind.  There  is 
another  class,  which  1  would  denominate  the  moral  per- 
ceptions. 

Good  and  ill  desert  are  certain  relations  of  a  moral 
agent  to  enjoyment  and  sufffiring.  But  the  idea  or  per- 
ception of  a  relation  is  an  intellectual  state  of  the  mind, — 
not  an  emotion.  The  perceptions  of  good  and  ill  desert 
are,  therefore,  not  the  same  thing  as  the  moral  emotions, 
and  hence  may  exist  independently  of  them.  Thus,  the 
benevolent  man,  even  to  those  who  wish  him  ill,  appears 
worthy  to  be  happy  ;  and  the  malevolent  man,  even  to 
himself,  appears  iiyori/tj/ to  be  miserable.  Thus,  a  criminal 
is  often  sensible  of  the  justice  of  the  punishment  which 
he  suffers,  while  he  hates  those  b^  whose  authority  it  is 
inflicted.     Perhaps  also  the  relations  of  a  moral  agent  to 


NATURE    OF    VIRTUE,  41 

opprobation  and  disapprobation^  may  be  perceived  by  us, 
without  feeling,  at  the  time,  the  moral  emotions  them- 
selves. For  example,  the  virtuous  man,  even  to  those 
by  whom  he  is  hated^  may  appear  worthy  to  be  loved.  A 
perception  of  one's  own  ill  desert,  may  be  accompanied 
with  pain.  If  the  pain  is  slight,  it  may  be  called  a  sense 
or  feeling  of  ill  desert ;  if  increased,  it  becomes  remorse. 
Perhaps  the  moral  emotions  are  always  preceded  by  the 
moral  perceptions. 

I  would  not  ascribe  these  moral  perceptions  to  a  pecu- 
liar faculty ;  but  to  reason^  "  that  power  by  which  we 
discover  the  various  re/a^iow^  of  things.*" 

Since  the  moral  perceptions  may  occasion  remorse, 
without  an  intervening  emotion  of  self-disapprobation,  it 
follows,  that  although  the  moral  emotions  are  virtuous, 
yet  wicked  men  ma}^,  while  on  earth,  and  hereafter  in 
the  vvorld  of  misery,  suffer  the  torments  of  remorse, 
without  any  virtuous  feelings,  being  involved  in  their  re- 
morse. 

CHAFTXSR  ZZ. 

Nature  of  Virtue. 

1.  Those  feelings  are  virtuous,  in  the  consciousness  of 
which  in  ourselves,  or  the  conception  of  which  in  any 
one,  an  emotion  of  approbation  arises  in  the  breast. 

2.  The  term  '  Virtue'  denotes  such  habits  of  action, 
as  may  naturally  be  supposed  to  proceed  from  virtuous 
feelings.  Justice,  veracity,  and  temperance,  are  instances 
of  this  kind.  Individual  actions  also,  though  not  habitu- 
al, are  termed  virtuous,  when  they  appear  to  proceed 
from  virtuous  motives. 

D  2 


42  THEORV    OJ^    MORALS. 

Strictly  speaking,  it  is  the  agent  only  who  is  virtuous,^ 
as  it  is  he  only  who  is  the  object  of  approbation.  A 
feeling  or  action  is  virtuous  only  in  a  secondary  sense. 
A  virtuous  feeling  is  one  which  renders  a  man  virtuous ; 
and  a  virtuous  action  is  one  which  affords  an  indication 
that  a  m.an  is  virtuous. 

Thoughts,  feelings,  and  actions,  have  no  existence  dis- 
tinct from  the  agent.  An  action  is  an  agent  acting ;  and 
thoughts  and  feelings  are  the  mind  thinking  and  feeling. 
In  other  words,  thoughts  and  feelings  are  mind^  existing 
in  certain  states  j  and  an  external  action,  consisting 
merely  of  certain  bodily  motions,  is  matter^  existing  in 
certain  states.  Motion  is  a  state  of  matter,  and  thoughts 
and  feelings  are  states  of  mind. 

The  definition  above  given  of  virtue,  includes  two 
classes  of  feelings ;  of  which  the  one  may  }»e  denominat- 
ed instinctive  and  social  virtues,  and  the  other,  christian 
virtues.  The  former  are  those  which  all  men^  in  some 
degree,  possess  ;  the  latter  are  those  which  are  peculiar 
to  christians.  Emotions  of  approbation  are  also  virtuous, 
and  belong  to  the  one  or  the  other  class  of  virtues,  ac- 
cording to  the  kind  of  virtue  that  is  approved.  Emotions 
of  disapprobation  are  also  virtuous,  and  may  belong  to 
either  of  the  two  classes  of  virtues. 

To  draw,  between  the  christian  virtues  and  those  that 
are  of  an  inferior  order,  a  line  of  distinction,  by  which 
the  difference  may,  in  all  cases,  be  perceived,  belongs 
rather  to  the  department  of  theology,  than  to  that  of 
ethics.  For  information  on  this  subject,  I  would  refer  to 
"  Edwards  on  the  Affections,"  "  Spring's  Essays  on  the 
Distinguishing  Traits  of  the  Christian  Character,"  and 
other  writers  who  treat  of  the  nature  of  christian  virtue. 
The  term  '  virtue'  is,  however,  generally  limited  to 
such  duties  toward  other  men  and  toward  ourselves,  as 
have  no  direct  reference  to  a  future  state  of  existence. 


I 


NATURE    or    VIRTUE.  43 


Duties  toward  God,  and  all  duties  that  relate  to  a  future 
state,  are  denoted  by  the  terms  '  piety'  and  '  religion.' 

The  terms,  '  virtue,'  '  merit,'  ^  obligation,'  all  have 
reference  to  one  feeling  of  the  mind,  that  of  approba- 
tion ;  and  differ  only  as  denoting  a  difference  of  time. 
Virtue  denotes  a  certain  feeling  or  action  as  present  ; 
merit,  as  past  ;  and  obligation,  as  future.'^  The  terms 
'  right'  and  ^  wrong,'  '  good'  and  '  bad,'  applied  to  a  feel- 
ing or  action,  are  synonymous  with  '  virtuous'  and  '  vi- 
cious.' Dr.  Paley,  however,  speaks  of  actions  as  being 
right  or  wrong  in  the  abstract^  according  as  they  have  a 
tendency  to  promote  the  general  happiness,  or  the  con- 
trary. But  the  term  '  right,'  in  this  sense,  becomes  sy- 
nonymous with  ^  useful ;'  and  if  this  sense  of  the  term  be 
admitted,  we  shall  frequently  have  occasion  to  denominate 
an  action  right  in  the  one  sense,  which  is  wrong  in  the  oth- 
er,— which  would  be  liable  to  produce  perplexity.  A  man, 
through  ignorance  or  want  of  judgment,  may,  though 
with  the  best  intentions,  perform  a  very  hurtful  action; 
and  this  action,  however  hurtful,  is  yei^  as  connected 
with  the  moral  feelings  from  which  it  proceeds,  virtuous 
or  right.  On  the  other  hand,  a  man  may,  though  with  an 
evil  design,  perform  a  very  useful  action  ;  and  this  action, 
however  useful,  is  yet,  as  connected  with  the  moral  feel- 
ings from  which  it  proceeds,  vicious  or  wrong. 

An  action  is  right  or  wrong,  then,  only  as  it  proceeds 
from  good  or  bad  motives,— in  other  words,  as  the  agent 
is  virtuous  or  vicious  in  its  performance.  When  an  ac- 
tion is  said  to  be  right  or  wrong,  there  is  always  an  allu- 
sion, more  or  less  direct,  to  an  agent,  who  is  supposed  to 
act  under  the  influence  of  certain  views  and  feelings. 
When  we  have  reference  to  no  particular  agent,  we  de- 
nominate those  actions  right,  which  any  man,  who  should 


^  See  Brown's  Philosophy,  Lect.  73. 


44  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

form  a  just  estimate  of  their  consequences,  would  feel 
under  obligation  to  perform.  And  when  we  refer  to  a 
particular  individual,  who  has  performed  a  certain  action, 
not  knowing*,  with  certainty,  the  moral  feelings  which 
influenced  him  to  act,  we  pronounce  upon  his  conduct  on 
the  presumption,  that  he  acted  from  those  motives, 
which  only  could  have  influenced  ourselves,  in  the  same 
circumstances,  to  act  in  the  same  manner.  We  say,  that 
he  did  rights  or  wrong ;  though,  at  the  same  time,  if  it 
shall  appear,  that  we  mistook  in  regard  to  the  motives 
from  which  he  acted,  our  language  will  have  been  in- 
correct, and  our  commendation,  or  censure,  unmerited. 
In  like  manner,  we  say  that  a  man  ought  to  perform  a  cer- 
tain action,  presuming  that  his  views  of  the  tendency  of 
the  action  are  the  same  with  our  own.  The  condition 
that  isimderstood  in  assertions  of  this  kind,  is,  as  in  many 
other  cases,  so  easily  understood,  that  it  seldom  need  be 
expressed. 

The  expressions,  ^I  am  under  obligation  to  do  an  ac- 
tion,' '  I  am  bound  to  do  it,'  '  I  ought  to  do  it,'  and  '  It  is 
my  duty  to  do  it,'  all  mean  the  same  thing.  We  are  said 
to  be  under  obligation  to  exercise  right  feelings,  and  to 
perform  right  external  actions.  To  be  under  obligation 
to  exercise  certain  feelings,  means,  that  if  we  exercise 
those  feelings,  we  shall  be  proper  objects  of  moral  ap- 
probation ;  and  that,  if  we  do  not  exercise  them,  it  can  only 
be  owing  to  our  exercising  feelings  of  the  contrary  na- 
ture, which  render  us  fit  objects  of  moral  disapprobation. 
To  be  under  obligation  to  do  a  certain  external  action, 
means,  that  if  we  do  that  action,  we  shall  appear  amiable 
or  worthy  of  approbation;  and  that,  if  we  abstain  from  it, 
we  shall  appear  odious  or  worthy  of  disapprobation.  In 
other  words,  to  be  under  obligation  to  do  an  action, 
means,  that  the  exercise  of  right  feelings  will  infallibly 
lead  us  to  do  the  action  ;  and  that,  consequently,  our  neg- 


NATURE    OF    VIRTUE,  45 

lecting  to  do  it,  will  afford  evidence  of  the  exercise  of 
wrong  feelings.  To  feel  under  obligation  to  do  an  action, 
is  to  be  sensible,  that  if  mj  moral  feelings  are  right,  I 
shall  do  the  action  ;  and  that  nothing  but  wrong  feeling* 
can  prevent  my  doing  it.  The  guilt  of  violating  an  ob- 
ligation, consists  in  those  wrong  feelings,  to  which  only  our 
neglect  of  the  action  can  be  owing.  Man,  as  a  moral  agent^ 
is  so  constituted,  that  when  an  action  is  presented  to  view, 
which  the  exercise  of  right  feelings  would  lead  him  to 
perform,  he  cannot  be  destitute  of  all  moral  feelings,  and 
therefore  cannot  abstain  from  doing  the  action  without 
being  the  subject  of  wrong  feelings.  Thus  it  is,  that  all 
guilt,  considered  as  lying  in  the  heart,  is  positive^  though, 
as  respects  external  conduct^  there  appears  to  be  no  impro- 
priety in  speaking  of  "sins  of  omission,"  or  of  the  guilt 
of  neglecting  duty.  The  commission  of  vicious  actions  is 
criminal  only  as  it  is  indicative  of  wrong  feelings  ;  and 
the  omission  of  virtuous  actions  is  frequently  as  indica- 
tive of  something  wrong  in  the  heart ;  so  that  bad  exter- 
nal actions  and  the  omission  of  good  external  actions,  are 
criminal  in  precisely  the  same  sense. 

The  preceding  illustration  of  the  nature  of  moral  ob- 
ligation, may  enable  us  to  see  what  we  are  to  understand 
by  the  '•  dictates'  and  the  '  reproaches'  of  conscience  > 
and  also  to  determine  one  or  two  questions  relative  to  the 
nature  of  duty. 

When  an  action,  which  we  have  abilit}'  and  opportu- 
nity to  perform,  is  presented  to  the  mind,  the  idea  of 
the  feelings  which  would  lead  to  its  performance,  is 
suggested  ;  and  we  approve  of  these  as  right  feelings,  or 
disapprove  of  them  as  wrong.  We  will  suppose  the  ac- 
tion to  be  such,  that  we  approve  of  the  feelings  which 
would  lead  to  its  performance.  The  idea  of  the  feelings 
which  only  can  hinder  its  performance,  is  also  suggested  ; 
and  we  disapprove  of  these  as  wrong  feelings.  Either  or 


46  THEORY    OP    MORALS. 

both  of  these  moral  emotions,  constitute  a  sense  of  duty 
or  obligation  to  do  the  action.  Perhaps,  however,  in 
most  men,  a  sense  of  duty  consists  chiefly  of  a  disappro- 
bation of  the  anticipated  guilt  of  neglecting  a  virtuous 
action.  "  To  know  that  we  should  feel  ourselves  unworthy 
of  self-esteem,  and  objects  rather  of  self-abhorrence,  if  we 
did  not  act  in  a  certain  manner,  is,"  says  Dr.  Brown,''  to 
feel  the  moral  obligation  to  act  in  a  certain  manner."* 
A  sense  of  duty  is  called,  metaphorically,  the  voice,  dic- 
tates, or  monitions  of  conscience.  If  the  contemplated 
action  is  performed,  and  from  good  motives,  the  moral 
emotion  that  is  felt,  is  called  the  approbation  of  con- 
science. The  emotions  of  pleasure  which  are  connected 
tvith  this  approbation,  are  the  pleasure  which  arises  from 
an  approving  conscience.*  If  the  duty  is  neglected,  or  if 
any  action  is  performed  from  wrong  motives,  the  emotion 
of  self-disapprobation  that  is  felt,  is  attended  with  emo- 
tions of  pain.  These  emotions  of  self-disapprobation 
and  of  pain,  constitute  the  reproaches  of  an  accusing  con- 
science. The  same  painful  emotions  are  sometimes  cal- 
led remorse  of  conscience  and  the  sting  of  conscience. — 
Such  are  the  ideas  which  appear  to  be  couched  under  the 
figurative  terms  in  common  use  respecting  conscience, 
when  those  terms  are  analyzed,  and  their  meaning  ex- 
pressed in  literal  language. 

It  has  been  made  a  question  by  some,  whether  it  is  the 
duty  of  men  to  be  perfectly  holy.  The  question,  however, 
is  quite  unmeaning,  and  can  only  have  arisen  from  ob- 
scure or  erroneous  ideas  of  the  nature  of  duty.  It  results 
from  the  very  nature  of  moral  obligation,  that  it  is  our 
duty  to  exercise  right  feelings  toward  every  object,  toward 
which  we  exercise  any  moral  feelings  at  all. 

Another  question  is  the  following  :  '  Ought  the  die-' 
tates  of  conscience  always  to  be  obeyed  ?'     This  question, 

■*Brown's  Philosophy,  Lect,  73. 


NATURE    OF    VIRTUE.  47 

lo,  will  be  found,  on  examination,  to  be  wholly  unmean- 
ing. The  '  dictates  of  conscience'  are  a  sense  of  duty. 
The  question,  then,  is,  '  Ought  a  sense  of  duty  always 
to  govern  our  conduct  V — in  other  words,  '  Ought  we  al- 
ways to  do  our  duty?' — in  other  words,  '  Is  it  our  duty 
always  to  do  our  duty  V  or,  '  Ought  we  always  to  do  what 
we  ought  V  If,  indeed,  conscience  might  contradict  it- 
self, and  condemn  at  one  time  what  it  approved  at  anoth- 
er, we  might  admit  that  the  dictates  of  conscience  ought 
not  alwaj's  to  be  obeyed.  But  enough,  I  trust,  has  been 
said  on  this  subject  under  the  fourth  general  head  of  the 
preceding  chapter.  Or  if  we  should  admit  a  right  and 
wrong  in  the  abstract^  as  an  immediate  foundation  of  duty, 
advantage  might  be  taken  of  the  ambiguity  of  terms,  to 
say  that  the  dictates  of  conscience  ought  not  always  to 
be  obeyed.  To  illustrate  my  meaning,  suppose  that  a 
man,  in  a  certain  instance,  ought  not  to  do  what  he  real- 
ly thinks  he  ought  to  do.  It  follows,  that  he  ought  to  do 
something  which  he  really  thinks  he  ought  not  to  do. 
And  if,  among  the  innumerable  variety  of  things  which 
he  believes  it  would  be  wrong  for  him,  at  that  time,  to 
do,  he  fixes  upon  some  one,  there  is  a  possibility^  that  by 
intending  to  do  wrong,  he  may  happen  to  do  right.  But 
it  is  said  by  some,  and  it  would  seem  seriously  said,  that 
in  such  circumstances,  a  man  will  inevitably  do  wrong  ; — 
for,  if  he  does  what  he  thinks  he  ought,  it  will  be  wrong, 
because  his  views  of  duty  are  erroneous,  and  the  action  is 
in  itself  wrong  ;  and  if  he  does  what  he  thinks  he  ought 
not,  it  will  be  wrong,  because  he  acts  with  a  bad  design. 
Be  it  so  ; — with  equal  truth  I  reply,  that  a  man,  in  such 
circumstances  will  inevitably  do  right ; — for,  if  he  does 
what  he  thinks  he  ought  to  do,  it  will  bo  right,  because  he 
acts  with  a  good  design ;  and  if  he  abstains  from  doing  it, 
it  will  be  right,  because  the  action  is  in  itself  wrong.,  and 
ou^ht  to  be   abstained  from.     These   seeming  contradic- 


48  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

tions  arise  from  assuming,  in  each  case,  two  standards  of 
duty,  and,  of  course,  using  the  terms  '  right'  and  '  wrong^ 
in  two  different  senses.  The  two  parts  of  the  alterna- 
tive are  made  to  appear  both  right  or  both  wrong,  by 
shifting  the  standard  in  passing  from  the  one  to  the  other. 
But  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  even  if  we  use  the 
term  '  right'  in  an  abstract  sense,  such  a  rectitude  as  this 
does  not  constitute  duty. 

I  will  make  a  remark  or  two,  illustrative  of  the  way  in 
which  some  have  been  led  to  imagine  that  conscience 
might  sometimes  err.  When  a  man  has  performed  an 
action  that  is  followed  by  calamitous  consequences,  which 
men  in  general  would  have  foreseen,  and  wbich  he,  with 
more  information  or  a  better  judgment  would  have  fore- 
seen, his  neighbors  very  naturally  ascribe  the  action  to  an 
evil  design.  And  if  he  assures  them  that  he  meant  well, 
that  he  acted  conscientiously,  this,  instead  of  effacing 
from  their  minds  the  impression  that  he  was  influenced  by 
wrong  feelings,  leads  them  to  suspect  that  he  was  deceiv- 
ed in  regard  to  the  nature  of  his  feelings,  and  to  conclude, 
that  if  his  conscience  could  approve  such  motives,  it  must 
be  a  perverted  and  erroneous  conscience.  Thus  they 
persist  in  condemning  him,  because  they  cannot  admit  the 
belief,  that  his  motives  were  really  good.  They  could 
not,  themselves,  perform  such  an  action  from  good  mo- 
tives ;  and  they  cannot  conceive  that  any  other  could. 
Or,  the  man  may  have  been  previously  criminal  in  neg- 
lecting to  obtain  that  information,  which  might  enable 
him  to  judge  correctly  of  the  tendency  of  the  action; 
and  they,  fully  persuaded  that  there  is  blame  somewhere, 
liave  not  suflicient  discrimination  to  attach  it  to  that  part 
of  the  man's  conduct,  to  which  it  really  belongs.  And  pos- 
sibly, the  man  liimself  may  err  through  the  same  want  of 
discrimination ;  or,  more  probably,  amid  the  bitter  regret 
which  he  feels,  and  the  unanimous  reproaches  of  others, 


NATURE    OF    VIRTUE,  49 

he  may  forget  his  real  motives,  falsely  conceive  himself 
to  have  acted  from  bad  motives,  and  hence  conclude,  that 
the  self-approbation  which  he  felt  at  the  time  was  delusive, 
and  that  he  did  wrong  in  obeying  the  dictates  of  his  con- 
science. If,  however,  he  avoids  this  mistake,  and  retains 
a  consciousness  of  rectitude,  he  may  repel  every  impu- 
tation of  blame  by  saying, '  I  know  that  my  motives  were 
good  ;  and  it  is  unreasonable  to  censure  me  for  consequen- 
ces which  I  did  not  foresee  nor  intend,  and  which  had  I 
foreseen,  I  should  by  means  have  performed  the  action.' 

But  is  there  not  danger,  lest  some  should  justify  them- 
selves in  the  commission  of  real  crimes,  under  the  pre- 
tence of  honest  intentions  ?  Madame  de  Stael  suggests 
a  danger  of  this  kind.  "  What  reply  shall  we  make,"  she 
asks,  "  to  those  who  should  pretend  that  in  departing 
from  duty,  they  obey  the  dictates  of  conscience  ?"*  But 
I  imagine  that  no  great  evil  is  to  be  apprehended  from 
this  source.  In  ordinary  cases,  it  is  easy  to  make  a 
man  see,  that  he  can  maintain  the  pretence  of  good  in- 
tentions only  by  pleading  ignorance  or  want  of  foresight; 
and  there  are  few, — so  depraved  is  man, — who  would  not 
rather  be  suspected  of  want  of  integrity  than  of  want  of 
understanding. 

The  case  of  St.  Paul  merits  a  particular  consideration. 
He  says,  "  1  verily  thought  with  myself  that  I  ought  to 
do  many  things  contrary  to  the  name  of  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth.-'t  Was  it,  then,  his  duty  to  persecute  the  chris- 
tians, and  to  lay  waste  the  church  ? — On  this  subject,  two 
or  three  preliminary  remarks  may  serve  to  guard  against 
misapprehension. 


*  Que  repondre,  a  ceux  qui  pretendroient,  en  s'  ecarlant  da  devoir,  qu' 
lis  obeissent  aux  ir.ouvemens  de  leur  conscience. — De  L' Allemagne. 
Tome  III.  p.  205. 

t  Acts  xxvi.  9. 

E 


50  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

1.  Paul's  views  of  Christ  and  of  christians,  were,  be- 
fore his  conversion,  very  erroneous ;  and  these  errone- 
ous views,  so  far  as  he  was  led  to  entertain  them  by  pre- 
judice, or  pride,  or  any  bad  passion,  were  criminal.  They 
were  criminal  in  the  same  sense  that  any  external  conduct 
is, — that  is,  as  proceeding  from  wrong  feelings  of  heart. 
We  often  hear  of  the  innocence  of  error;  but  error  is 
frequently  as  criminal  as  falsehood,  fraud,  and  other  vices 
of  the  kind,  because  it  originates  in  moral  feelings  equally 
bad. 

2.  Paul  was  criminal,  not  only  in  forming,  but  in  con- 
tinuing to  entertain^  those  erroneous  views.  Right  moral 
feelings  would  have  led  him  to  examine  the  subject  of 
Christianity  impartially  and  prayerl'uily  ;  and  such  an  ex- 
amination would  have  ended  in  his  conviction. 

3.  Paul  was  highly  criminal  in  persecuting  the  chris- 
tians. He  says  that  he  was  '•^  exceedingly  mad  against 
them  ;"  and  there  is  much  evidence  that  he  was  actuated 
by  a  malevolent  and  persecuting  spirit.  Such  a  spirit, 
his  conscience  could  not  approve  ;  neither  could  he  think, 
that  by  indulging  it,  he  should  meet  the  approbation  of 
God.  It  appears  from  the  context,  that  he  did  not  say 
that  he  once  thought  he  ought  to  do  many  things  against 
the  name  of  Jesus,  in  the  way  of  exculpating  himself, 
but  to  show  how  erroneous  his  views  of  the  christian  re- 
ligion had  been.  In  another  place,  too,  he  represents  his 
persecuting  the  saints  as  the  summit  of  his  wickedness.* 

4.  I  now  proceed  to  observe,  that  Paul's  views  of  the 
nature  and  tendency  of  the  new  religion,  appear  to  have 
been  such,  that  it  was  actually  his  duty,  while  he  enter- 
tained these  views,  to  oppose  the  progress  of  this  reli- 
gion. But  it  was  his  duty  to  oppose  the  christians  with 
right  feelings, — with  the   same  humble  and  benevolent 


«  I  Cor.  XV.  9. 


NATURE     OF    VIRTUE.  51 

spirit,  with  which  they  were  lahoring  to  propagate  their 
religion.  This  spirit,  however,  would  have  soon  led  him 
to  see  that  his  views  were  erroneous ;  and  of  course, 
with  the  change  in  his  views,  his  duty  to  oppose  Chris- 
tianity would  have  ceased. — Is  it  said,  that  because  his 
erroneous  views  were  criminal,  the  course  of  conduct 
resulting  from  those  views,  must  have  been  criminal  ?  I 
reply,  that  there  is  only  one  thing  which  can  render  the 
conduct  criminal ;  and  that  is,  its  proceeding  directly  from 
wrong  feelings.  I  said  "  directly  ;"  I  mean,  as  directly 
as  any  external  conduct  can  proceed  from  the  moral  feel- 
ings, that  is,  through  the  medium  of  the  conceptions  and 
volitions.  Criminal  thoughts,  criminal  opinions,  and 
criminal  conduct,  are  all  criminal  in  the  same  sense  ;  that 
is,  not  because  one  of  them  may  proceed  from  another, 
but  because  they  all  proceed  alike  from  wrong  feelings. 
And  although  the  moral  feelings  which  a  man  had  years 
ago,  may,  through  a  concatenation  of  intervening  opin- 
ions, actions,  and  events,  render  his  present  conduct  dif^ 
ferent  from  what  it  would  otherwise  have  been,  yet  this 
conduct  is  not  to  be  denominated  right  or  wrong  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  of  those  distant  feelings,  but  according 
to  the  nature  ot  the  feelings  from  which  it  now  springs. 
Such  an  indirect  and  complex  method  of  estimating  the 
morality  of  actions,  would  occasion  infinite  confusion  in 
the  language  of  ethics. 

Paul  says,  that  he  really  thought  he  ought  to  do  many 
things  ill  opposition  to  Christ ;  and  though  he  says  this  to 
show  in  how  great  a  mistake  he  had  been  in  regard  to 
Christianity,  yet  it  contains  an  explicit  declaration,  that 
he  ^^  thought'''  he  ought  to  oppose  Christ; — and  what  a 
man  thinks  he  ought  to  do,  he  is,  while  he  thinks  so,  un- 
der obligation  to  do.  A  man  may,  soon  afterwards,  mis- 
take in  regard  to  his  moral  emotions,  through  the  fault  of 
his  memory  j  but  l^e  cannot  make  sucii  a  miotake  at  the 


52  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

time.  To  use  the  words  of  Madame  de  Stael,  "  The 
voice  of  conscience  is  so  delicate,  that  it  is  easy  to  stifle 
it ;  but  it  is  so  clear  and  distinct,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
misunderstand  it."*  But  it  does  not  follow  irom  this,  that 
a  man  will  in  fact  act  from  good  motives  in  doing  that 
which  he  previously  felt  it  his  duty  to  do.  The  same 
action  may  be  performed  from  various  motives  ;  and  an 
action  which  right  feelings  would  lead  us  to  perform,  may, 
nevertheless,  be  performed  under  the  complete  influence 
of  wrong  feelings.  A  man  may  feel  that  he  should  be 
self-condemned,  if  he  forebore  to  perform  the  action;  and 
yet  may  immediately  proceed  to  perform  it,  impelled 
by  feelings  even  worse  than  those  which  alone  could 
have  prevented  him  from  performing  it,  and  perhaps 
without  once  suspecting  the  real  motives  of  his  conduct. 
Although,  therefore,  it  was  Paul's  duty,  while  he  thought 
so,  "  to  do  many  things  contrary  to  the  name  of  Jesus 
of  Nazareth ;"  yet  we  cannot  infer  from  this  that  he 
actually  did  his  duty,  in  opposing  Christ, — since  duty  is 
performed  only  when  we  act  from  such  motives  as  con- 
science approves. 

If  Paul  had  correct  views  of  the  divine  character,  and 
believed  it  to  be  the  will  of  God  that  the  christians 
should  be  persecuted  and  destroyed,  he  might  have  been 
as  justifiable  in  dragging  them  to  prison,  in  pursuing  them 
even  to  foreign  cities,  and  in  giving  his  voice  against 
them  when  they  were  put  to  death,  as  the  Israelites 
were  in  destroying  the  inhabitants  of  Canaan  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  divine  command.  But  I  do  not  suppose  he 
did  believe  it  to  be  the  will  of  God,  that  he  should  per- 
secute them  in  the  manner  that  he  did.  I  suppose,  in- 
deed,  that  even  if  he  had  been  actuated  by  good  mo- 


*  La  voix  de  la  conscience  est  si  delicate,  qu'  il  est  facile  de  1'  etouffer ; 
mais  elle  est  si  pure,  qu'  il  est  impossible  de  la  meconnoitre.— X>e  V  Al- 
lemagnCf  Tome  III.  ^p.  183. 


NATURE    OF    VTRTUE.  53 

lives,  he  would  have  been  led,  till  he  saw  his  error,  to 
do  "many  things"  against  the  church;  but  not  50  many 
nor  such  things  as  he  actually  did,  impelled  by  a  malevo- 
lent spirit,  which  "  breathed  out  threatenings  and  slaugh- 
ter against  the  disciples  of  the  Lord."  It  is  piobable, 
that  the  whispers  of  conscience  were  drowned  amid  the 
clamors  of  passion  and  the  impetuosity  of  zeal.  Had  he 
paused  to  reflect,  and  to  examine-  the  motives  by  which 
he  was  actuated,  he  might  probably  have  become  sensi- 
ble of  his  error  and  his  guilt,  even  in  the  midst  of  his 
persecuting  career. 

The  preceding  discussions  bring  us  to  an  important 
practical  conclusion  ; — I'hat  it  is  impossible  to  be  too 
conscientious;  that  tenderness  of  conscience  ought  ev- 
er to  be  cultivated  ;  that  the  reproach  of  scrupulosity 
ought  never  to  be  feared;  and  that  the  moral  emotions 
ought  to  be  carefully  attended  to  and  remembered. 

I  now  proceed  to  an  inquiry  more  directly  illustrative 
of  the  nature  of  virtue,  than  the  definitions,  explanations, 
and  reasonings,  with  which  this  chapter  has,  thus  far, 
been  occupied. 

Why  do  virtuous  feelings  lead  to  the  performance  of  one 
action^  rather  than  of  another  ? 

It  is  obvious,  that  the  foundation  of  this  preference, 
must  be  a  difference,  of  some  kind,  in  actions  themselves, 
or  in  their  relations,  or  consequences.  What  this  differ- 
ence is,  constitutes,  then,  the  object  of  inquiry. 

The  subject  on  which  we  are  now  entering,  is  one  on 
which  various  and  disc(  rdant  opinions  have  been  enter- 
tained. Some  have  supposed  one  thing  and  some  another, 
to  be  the  sole  ground  of  virtuous  preference  in  acting; 
and  some  have  supposed  there  are  various  co-ordinate 
principles  of  virtuous  action.  Some  of  these  supposi- 
tions we  shall  briefly  consider. 
e2 


54  THEORY   OF   MORAt^w 

1 .  The  will  of  God  is  supposed  by  some  to  be  the  sole 
reason  why  the  virtuous  man  prefers  one  action  to  anoth- 
er. The  will  of  God  is  an  infallible  rule  of  duty,  and  his 
commands,  in  many  instances,  make  known  to  us  our  duty; 
but  there  is  a  reason  why  it  is  our  duty  to  conform  to  the 
will  of  God  and  obey  his  commands,  and  this  is,  that  his 
will  is  perfectly  benevolent,  and  his  commands  are  per- 
fectly suited  to  promote  the  ends  of  infinite  benevolence. 
Duty  results  from  the  nature  and  relations  of  things  ;  and 
is  immutable,  so  long  as  that  nature  and  those  relatione 
remain  the  same.  Therefore,  even  on  the  supposition 
that  God  should  require  his  creatures  to  exercise  hatred 
and  malice  toward  one  another,  or  should  forbid  ihem  to 
act  from  benevolent  motives,  they  could  not  feel  an  ap- 
probation of  such  a  command  and  such  a  prohibition,  and 
therefore,  could  not  feel  a  self-approbation  in  complying 
with  them ; — in  other  words,  it  would  not  be  their  duty  to 
comply  with  them. 

''  We  consider  the  Deity,"  says  Dr.  Brown,  "  as  pos- 
sessing the  highest  moral  perfection  ;  but,  in  that  theolo- 
gical view  of  morality  which  acknowledges  no  mode  of 
estimating  excellence  beyond  the  divine  command  itself, 
whatever  it  might  have  been, — these  words  are  absolute- 
ly meaningless ;  since,  if,  instead  of  what  we  now  term 
virtue,  he  had  commanded  only  what  we  now  term  vice, 

his   command   must  still  have  been  equally  holy." 

"  God  has,  indeed,  commanded  certain  actions,  and  it  is 
our  virtue  to  conform  our  actions  to  his  will ;  but  if  the 
virtue  df^pend  exclusively  on  obedience  to  the  command, 
and  if  there  be  no  peculiar  moral  excellence  in  the  ac- 
tions commanded,  he  must  have  been  equally  adorable, 
though  nature  had  exhibited  only  appearances  of  unceas- 
ing malevolence  in  its  author,  and  every  command  which 
fee  had  delivered  to  his  creatures,  had  been  only  to  add 


NATURE    OF    VIRTUE.  55 

new  voluntary  miseries  to  the  physical   miseries  which 
already  surrounded  them.""* 

2.  Some  suppose,  that  there  is  a  '  moral  wertW  in  cer- 
tain actions,  independent  of  their  utility ;  and  that  this 
moral  worth  constitutes  a  reason  why  the  virtuous  man 
performs  actions  of  that  kind.  What  this  moral  worth 
is,  however,  is  difficult  to  be  conceived.  Does  the  moral 
worth  of  ^rw^/i,  for  instance,  consist  in  the^fne**  of  things, 
in  the  adaptedness  of  one  thing  to  another,  and  in  the  cor- 
respondence of  words  with  the  ideas  which  they  represent, 
and  of  signs  with  the  things  signified?  Then  is  there  the 
same  moral  worth  in  the  correct  solution  of  a  mathemati- 
cal problem,  in  the  musical  concord  of  voices  in  singing, 
or  in  the  exact  delineation  of  an  object  in  painting,  as  in 
speaking  the  truth,  or  keeping  a  promise.  There  is. 
indeed,  a  moral  worth  in  the  motives  from  which  truth 
proceeds,  when  those  motives  are  good  ;  but  in  troth  it- 
self, abstractedly  considered,  there  appears  to  be  no  worth 
or  value,  of  any  kind  whatever,  except  what  may  be  cal- 
led a  natural  worth,  consisting  in  the  useful  tendency  of 
truth. 

3.  Some  suppose,  that  the  tendency  of  actions  to  pro- 
mote cne'^s  own  best  interest^  is  the  sole  reason  of  perform- 
ing them,  in  the  mind  of  the  virtuous  man.  According 
to  this  system,  which  is  advocated  by  many  able  writers, 
virtue  consists  in  a  rational  regard  to  one's  own  happi- 
ness ;  and  virtuous  actions  are  those  which  are  considered 
as  being  best  adapted  to  promote  this  object.  This  is 
the  system  of  Dr.  Paley.  In  answer  to  the  question, 
"  Why  am  1  under  obligation  to  keep  my  word  ?"  he  says, 
'^  Because  I  am  urged  to  do  so  by  a  violant  motive,  (name- 
ly, the  expectation  of  being  after  this  life  rewarded,  if  I 
do,  or  punished   for  it,  if  I  do  not,)  resulting  from  the 


*  Brown's  Philosophy,  Lect.  80. 


J56  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

command  of  another  (namely,  of  God.)  This  solution 
goes  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject,  as  no  further  question 
can  reasonably  be  asked.  Therefore,  private  happiness 
is  our  motive,  and  the  will  of  God  our  rule."  And  in 
accordance  with  this,  is  his  definition  of  Virtue  :  ^'  Virtue 
is  the  doing  good  to  mankind,  in  obedience  to  the  will  of 
God,  and  for  the  sake  of  everlasting  happiness." 

A  '  rational  regard'  to  our  own  happiness,  must  mean,  a 
desire  of  personal  hippiness,  controlled  and  directed  by  rea- 
son. But  reason,  which  is  wholly  an  intellectual  facility,  is 
no  part  of  virtue.  If  it  were,  there  would  be  something  of 
virtue  in  the  operations  of  the  reasoning  faculty,  when  em- 
ployed in  accomplishing  the  basest  tind  worst  of  purpo- 
ses. The  reasoning  powers  are  employed  in  adapting 
means  to  an  end  in  deeds  ot  cruelty  and  oppression,  pre- 
cisely in  the  same  manner,  as  in  deeds  of  kindness  and 
philantbropy.  The  adaptation  of  means  to  an  end,  is  the 
sole  use  of  reason  in  the  actions  of  men.  The  heart 
chooses  and  desires  the  end,  and  reason  selects  the  means. 
Reason  may,  indeed,  be  employed  in  the  preliminary 
process  of  estimating  the  probable  good  and  evil  conse- 
quences of  an  action,  of  which  the  performance  is  a  sub- 
ject of  deliberation ;  but  this  is  before  the  action  can  be 
said  to  have  commenced  ;  and  besides,  the-faculty  of  rea- 
son is  employed  in  the  same  manner  in  estimating  the 
future  consequences  of  actions,  whether  they  are  to  be 
chosen  for  the  sake  of  their  good,  or  for  the  sake  of  their 
evil,  consequences.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  in  making 
virtue  to  consist  in  a  '  rational  regard'  to  one''s  own  hap- 
piness, the  epithet  'rational'  is  superfluous;  and  that, 
according  to  this  system,  virtue  consists  in  tlie  desire  of 
personal  happiness^  whether  rational  cr  irrational.  If  a 
man  s^incerely  and  supremely  desires  the  promotion  of 
that  object,  in  desiring  and  promoting  which  all  virtue 
consists ;  and  if  he  exerts  ail  his  powers  and  directs  all 


NATURE    OF   VIRTUE.  57 

his  actions  to  this  laudable  end,  who  would  blame  him  for 
missing,  wholly  or  partly,  of  the  object,  merely  through 
want  of  more  extensive  knowledge  or  more  skilful  calcu- 
lation ?  It  is  to  be  remembered,  that,  on  this  plan,  rea- 
son is  not  to  be  employed  in  promoting  the  happiness  of 
others,  except  merely  as  a  means  of  promoting  our  own  ; 
nor  in  guarding  against  encroachments  on  the  happiness 
of  others,  except  just  so  far  as  those  encroachments  might 
be  liable  to  bring  evil  upon  ourselves.  Hence,  if  this 
world  were  our  only  state  of  existence,  it  would  be  inno- 
cent, and  even  virtuous,  to  trample  on  the  rights  of  oth- 
ers, and  sacrifice  their  interest,  whenever  it  happened  to 
interfere  with  our  own.  And  though  a  virtuous  man  of 
this  stamp  may  appear  to  make  some  sacrifices  to  the 
wishes,  or  interest,  or  wants  or  others,  yet  it  is  in  no  de- 
"gree  for  their  sake,  but  wholly  for  his  own  ;  for,  unless 
he  hoped  to  gain  by  it,  sooner  or  later,  he  would  not  de- 
ny himself  the  smallest  gratification  for  the  sake  of  saving 
others  from  the  greatest  evils,  or  securing  to  them  the 
most  important  benefits. 

Such  is  "  the  selfish  system^'^^ — as  it  is  very  correctly 
denominated.  As  a  picture  of  the  human  heart,  such  as 
it  is  found  in  the  great  majority  of  mankind,  this  system 
may  not  be  far  from  the  truth ;  but  as  a  picture  of  the 
virtuous  man,  it  is  utterly  false.  Indeed,  the  represent 
tation  is  not  perfectly  correct,  even  when  applied  to  the 
human  heart  in  its  natural  state.  For  although  selfishness 
is  the  supreme,  and  perhaps  the  most  habitual,  principle 
of  action,  in  all  who  are  destitute  of  christian  virtue,  yet, 
even  in  them,  it  is  not  the  sole  principle  of  action.  They 
have  not  their  own  happiness  in  view  in  all  their  actions. 
They  do  not  love  virtue  because  this  love  is  attended 
with  pleasure  ;  nor  do  they  relieve  the  distressed  because 
the  recollection  will  give  them  pleasure.  The  following 
remarks  of  Dr.  Brown  will  set  this  subject  in  its  true 
light : 


58  THEORY    OF    MORALS* 

"  Many  philosophers  seem  to  thipk,  that  they  have 
shown  man  to  be  necessarily  selfish^  merely  by  sho wing- 
that  it  is  delightful  for  him  to  love  thdse,  whom  it  is  vir- 
tue to  love ;  and  whom  it  would  have  been  impossible  for 
him  not  to  love^  even  though  no  happiness  had  attended 
the  affection  ; — as  it,  is  impossible  for  him  not  to  despise 
or  dislike  the  mean  and  the  profligate,  though  no  pleasure 
attends  the  contemplation."* 

''  Though  we  cannot,  when  there  is  no  interfering  pas- 
sion, think  of  the  virtues  of  others  without  pleasure,  and 
must,  therefore,  in  loving  virtue,  love  what  is  by  its  own 
nature  pleasing,  the  love  of  the  virtue,  which  cannot  ex- 
ist without  the  pleasure,  is  surely  an  affection  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  love  of  the  mere  pleasure,  existing,  if  it 
had  been  possible  for  it  to  exist,  without  the  virtue."! 

"  The  immediate  object  of  our  desire,  in  rushing  to  the 
relief  of  one  who  is  in  danger,  is  not  the  pleasure  of  giv- 
ing relief,  but  the  relief  itself, — the  subsequent  contem- 
plation of  which  is,  indeed,  by  a  bountiful  provision  of 
Heaven,  associated  with  delight,  as  the  failure  in  the 
attempt  to  afford  it,  is  accompanied  with  pain — -but  which 
we  desire  instantly,  without  regard  to  our  own  personal 
delight  that  would  follow  it,  or  the  pain  that  would  be  felt 
by  us,  if  the  relief  were  not  given. "J 

'■'  He  who  counts  only  the  pleasure  which  the  offices  of 
virtue  are  to  yield,  and  who  acts  as  virtue  orders,  there- 
fore, only  because  vice  does  not  offer  to  her  followers  so 
rich  a  salary, — is  unworthy,  I  will  not  say  merely  of  being 
a  follower  of  virtue,  but  even  of  that  pleasure  which 
virtue  truly  gives  only  to  those  who  think  less  of  the 
pleasure,  than  of  the  duty  which  affords  the  pleasure. "§ 


*Bi  wii's  Philosophy,  Lect.  60.  flbid   Lect.  59. 

t  loiU.  Uct.  95.  5  ibid.  Lecu  98, 


NATURE    OF   VIRTUE,  59 

If  virtue  consists  in  the  desire  of  personal  happiness^ 
the  more  undisguised  this  selfish  desire  is,  (he  more  vir- 
tuous must  an  action  appear;  and  the  more  any  one  is  led, 
by  benevolence  toward  others,  to  forget  himself  in  acting", 
the  less  virtuous  does  the  action  become.  But  if  this  is 
so,  why  do  men  take  so  much  pains  to  appear  disinterest- 
ed ?  It  seems  there  is  a  f»»eling  in  the  breast,  even  of 
the  most  selfish,  which  tells  them  that  selfishness  is  not  a 
virtue.  This  feeling  is  the  moral  emotion, — to  which 
our  ultimate  appeal  must  be  made,  in  all  questions  rela- 
tive to  the  nature  of  virtue.  On  this  subject,  I  again 
quote  the  language  of  Dr.  Brown : 

''  If  two  individuals  were  to  expose  themselves  to  the 
same  peril,  for  the  same  common  Irierid, — and  if  we  could 
be  made  to  understand,  that  the  one  had  no  other  motive 
for  this  apparently  generous  exposure,  than  the  wish  of 
securing  a  certain  amount  of  happiness  to  himself,  at  some 
time,  either  near  or  remote,— on  earth,  or  after  he  had 
quitted  earth  ; — the  other  no  motive  but  that  of  saving  a 
life  that  was  dearer  to  him  than  his  own, — in  which  case 
would  our  feeling  of  moral  approbation  more  strongly 
arise  ?  Is  it  the  more  selfish  of  the  two  whom  alone  we 
should  consider  as  the  moral  hero  ;  or  rather,  is  it  not 
only  in  thinking  of  him  who  forgot  every  thing  but  the 
call  of  friendship,  and  the  disinterested  feeling  of  duty 
which  prompted  him  to  obey  the  call, — that  we  should 
feel  any  moral  approbation  whatever  ?  It  is  precisely 
in  proportion  as  selfish  happiness  is  absent  from  the  mind 
of  the  agent,  or  is  supposed  to  be  absent  from  it,  in  any 
sacrifice  which  is  made  for  another,  that  the  moral  ad- 
miration arises."* 

But  it  may  be  asked,  If  the  moral  emotions  of  men 
are  never  erroneous,  and  if  a  supreme  desire  of  persoa- 

«Lect.  79. 


60  THEORY    OF   MORALS. 

al  happiness  is  not  virtuous,  how  does  it  happen  that  the 
selfish  system  has  found  so  many  a«lvocates  ?  Why  do 
not  every  man's  own  moral  emotions  tell  him  that  such  a 
system  is  false  ? — Of  this  difiiculty,  which  seems  not  to 
have  occurred  to  Dr.  Brown,  a  solution  nK'iy,  perhaps,  be 
found  in  the  following  considerations  :  There  are  cer- 
tain states  of  mind,  in  which  moral  emotions  do  not  arise. 
Extreme  passion  and  moral  insensibility  have  been  al- 
ready mentioned,  as  instances  of  this  kind.  Perhaps  the 
strength  of  the  selfish  principle  in  many  men,  and  the 
warmth  of  their  attachment  to  a  theory  of  virtue,  which 
makes  their  own  virtue  appear  so  great,  and  an  aban- 
donment of  which  would  be  almost  to  relinquish  all  claim 
to  virtue, — may  prevent  the  rise  of  moral  emotions  when 
their  attention  is  turned  to  their  favorite  theory,  and 
especially  whenever  this  theory  is  attacked.  An  intellec" 
iual  state  of  mind  may  also  prevent  both  moial  feelings 
and  moral  emotions  from  arising.  Hence,  while  the  ad- 
vocate of  the  selfish  system,  is  deeply  engaged  in  advocat- 
ing that  system,  or  in  contemplating  the  argumentsi 
which  are  used  both  to  attack  and  defend  it,  he  is  in  a^ 
state  of  mind  which  incajiacitates  him  ^or  feeling  that  his<l 
system  is  a  false  one. — But  there  is  one  circumstance  at- 
tending the  moral  phenomena  of  the  mind,  by  which  the 
advocates  of  the  selfish  system  are  not  only  prevented 
from  seeing  their  error,  but  actually  confirmed  in  it,  and 
by  which  they  may  have  been  originally  led  to  embrace 
this  system.  When  a  man  acts  under  the  influence  of 
feelings  which  his  conscience  approves,  these  feelings 
are  attended,  not  only  by  emotions  of  self-approbation, 
but  also  by  sensations  of  pleasure.  Hence  he  concludes 
that  the  pleasure  which  immediately  results  from  virtu- 
ous feelings  or  a  virtuous  action,  was  the  ultimate  object  of 
desire  ;  and,  of  course,  that  the  desire,  approved  by  his 
conscience  as  virtuous,  was  merely  the  desire  of  his  own 


NATURE    OF    VIRTUE,  61 

happiness.  But  this  fallacy  has  alrea%  been  brought  in- 
to view,  in  the  extracts  which  hare  been  recently  made 
from  Dr.  Brown.  I  only  add,  that  the  philosopher,  in 
drawing  his  inference,  forgets,  that  that  only  is  the  ob- 
ject of  desire,  in  view  of  which  the  desire  is  felt  ;  and 
that  enjoyment  may  immediately  result  from  a  virtuous 
feeling  or  action,  without  having  been  previously  thought 
of  or  desired. 

That  form  of  the  selfish  system,  which  makes  eternal 
liappiness  the  sole  object  of  virtuous  pursuit,  is,  on  some 
accounts,  worthy  of  a  separate  consideration.  The  hap- 
piness of  heaven  may  be  considered  as  differing  from  that 
of  the  present  life  in  two  respects, — in  its  nature  and  in 
its  quantity.  Its  nature  is  more  pure  ;  and  its  quantity  is 
infinitely  great, — being  not  only  more  intense  in  degree, 
but  also  eternal  in  duration.  It  is  thought  by  some, — who 
would  reject  any  other  modification  of  the  selfish  system, 
— that  there  is  virtue,  and  that  of  the  purest  kind,  in 
seeking  such  happiness  as  will  be  enjoyed  in  heaven,  al- 
though it  be  sought  exclusively  or  supremely  as  an  ob- 
ject of  private  enjoyment.  "  If,"  says  Madame  de  Stael, 
"  those  who  maintain  that  virtue  is  founded  on  interest, 
will  exclude  from  this  interest  whatever  relates  to  the 
present  life,  they  will  then  harmonize  in  sentiment  with 
the  most  pious  men."*  And  in  another  place  she 
has  the  following  remarks  :  "  Kant  maintained,  that 
to  make  the  prospect  of  a  future  life  the  object  of 
our  actions,  was  to  corrupt  the  disinterested  purity 
of  virtue.  Several  German  writers  have  completely 
refuted    him    on    this   point.       In    fact,    heavenly    im- 


*  Si  les  partisans  de  la  morale  fondee  sur  1'  interet  veuient  retranchcr 
de  cet  interei  tout,  ce  qui  concerne  1'  existence  terrestie.  alors  ils  seront 
d'  accord  avec  les  homines  les  plus  religieiix.— Z>e  L'  Allemagnej  Tome 
III.  p.  166. 


I^t  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

mortality  has  no  analogy  to  the  pleasures  and  pains  of 
which  we  conceive  here  on  earth.  The  sentiment 
which  makes  us  aspire  after  immortality,  is  as  disinter- 
ested, as  that  which  would  make  our  happiness  to  consist 
in  heing  devoted  to  that  of  others  ;  for  the  first  fruits  of 
religious  enjoyment  are  in  the  sacrifice  of  ourselves  ;  so 
that  every  kind  of  selfishness  is  necessarily  exclut'ed."* 
In  order  to  determine  whether  the  epithet  '  seifirh'  is 
properly  applied  to  the  man  who  makes  his  own  eternal 
happiness  the  supreme  object  of  desire  and  pursuit,  it  is 
necessary  to  inquire  definitely  what  selfishness  is.  Sel- . 
fishness  is  a  prefer cMce  of  an  interest  which  is  one^s  ortm 
to  an  equal  or  superior  interest  which  is  not  one's  own. 
The  selfish  man  prefers  his  own  interest  simi)ly  because 
it  is  his  own  ;  and  upon  the  interest  of  others,  though  of 
equal  value  in  itself,  he  places  an  inferior  value,  simply 
because  it  is  not  his  own.  It  makes  no  difference  in 
what  this  interest  consists.  The  child,  who  attempts  to 
deprive  another  child  of  a  toy  or  an  apple,  exhibits  an 
instance  of  selfishness.  The  man,  who  covets  the  wealth 
or  honors  that  another  has  obtained,  exhibits  an  instance 
of  selfishness.  So  also  does  he,  who  envies  another  the 
possession  of  superior  talents  or  of  more  extensive  eru- 
dition. And  so,  too,  does  he,  who  makes  his  own  eternal 
happiness  his  supreme  object, — regarding  the  happiness 
of  the  whole  universe  beside  as  a  subordinate  object. 
The  selfishness  is  not  diminished  by  increasing  the  7/iag' 

*  Kant  a  pretendu  que  c'  etoitalterer  la  purete  desinteresse  de  la  morale 
que  de  donner  a  nos  actions  pour  but  la  perspective  d'une  vie  future  i 
plusieurs  ecrivains  Allemands  T  ont  parfaitenient  refute  a  cet  egard  ;  en 
effet;  r  immortalite  celeste  n  '  a  nul  rapport  avec  les  peines  et  les  recom- 
penses que  r  on  con§oit  sur  cette  lerre;  le  sentiment  qui  nous  faitaspi* 
rer  a  l'  immortarue  est  aussi  desinteresse  que  celui  qui  nous  feroit  trouver 
noire  bonheur  dans  le  devouement  a  celui  des  autres;  car  les  preniices 
de  la  felicite  religieuse,  c'  est  le  sacrifice  de  nous-memes;  ainsi  done 
elle  ecarte  necessairement  toute  espece  d'  ego'israe — De  VAlkmagn^y 
Tome  III.  p.  192. 


NAtURE    or    VIRTUE.  63 

nitude  of  the  object  which  is  preferred,  while  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  object  to  which  it  is  preferred,  is  equally 
increased.  Neither  is  the  selfishness  diminished  by  the 
purity  and  excellence  of  that  which  is  preferred,  while 
that  to  which  it  is  preferred,  is  equally  pure  and  excel- 
lent. A  man  is  not,  indeed,  to  be  denominated  selfish 
merely  for  desiring  and  seeking  his  own  happiness,  sen- 
sitive, intellectual,  moral,  or  religious ;  but  for  seeking 
these  objects  with  a  desire  of  such  a  kind  as  to  inter- 
fere with  that  equal  regard  which  he  owes  to  his  neigh- 
bor, that  superior  regard  which  he  owes  to  the  commu- 
nity, and  that  supreme  regard  which  he  owes  to  God. 

After  all,  there  is  no  danger  that  such  happiness  as  is 
enjoyed  in  heaven,  will  ever  be,  to  any  one,  the  object 
of  supreme  desire.  The  human  mind  is  so  constituted, 
that  no  one  can  have  a  conception  of  any  thing  which  is 
different  in  kind  from  all  that  he  has  experienced.  The 
pleasures  of  religion  are,  like  their  source,  different  in 
kind  from  all  others.  Of  course,  those  who  have  never 
tasted  these  pleasures,  cannot  have  any  conception  of 
them  ;  and  that  of  which  they  cannot  conceive,  cannot 
be  to  them  an  object  either  of  supreme  or  subordinate 
desire.  Therefore,  the  future  happiness  which  such 
imagine  and  desire,  differs  not  in  kind  from  what  they 
enjoy  on  earth ;  so  that  they  cannot  be  shielded  from  the 
imputation  of  selfishness,  by  alleging  the  purity  and  ce- 
lestial nature  of  the  object  of  their  pursuit.  As  to  those 
who  have  enjoyed  a  foretaste  of  the  real  happiness  of 
heaven,  they  love  God  supremely,  and  their  neighbor  at 
themselves ;  and,  of  course,  regard  their  own  happiness 
even  in  eternity,  as  a  subordinate  object. 

But  it  seems  to  be  merely  the  vast  amount  of  eternal 
happiness,  which,  in  the  mind  of  Dr.  Paley,  renders  it 
virtuous  to  make  this  the  object  of  all  our  actions ;  for 
he  "  holds  that  pleasures  differ  in  nothing  but  in  continu- 
ance and  intensity."     This  is  to  make  virtue  consist  in  nr 


'4g4  THEORY    OF    MORALS.  ^^^^^H 

'  rational  regard'  to  our  own  interest, — excepting  that  it 
is  a  little  irrational  and  inconsistent  to  deny  the  appel- 
lation of  virtue  to  such  a  pursuit  of  earthly  pleasures  as 
we  may  engage  in  without  endangering  our  eternal  hap- 
piness, or  diminishing  the  sum  total  of  our  enjoyment. 
If  all  pleasures  are  the  same  in  kind,  and  if  virtue  con- 
sists in  the  rational  pursuit  of  pleasure,  it  must  be  as 
truly  virtuous  to  desire  the  pleasures  of  sense,  so  far  as 
they  can  be  innocently  enjoyed,  as  to  desire  '  everlasting 
happiness ;' — the  only  difference  being,  that  lo  desire  to 
eat  an  apple  or  an  orange  is  a  small  virtue,  while  the 
virtue  becomes  greater  as  the  desire  is  directed  to  pleas- 
ures of  greater  intensity  or  greater  duration.  "  The 
doctrine  of  Paley  differs,"  says  Dr.  Brown,  "  from  the 
general  selfish  system,  only  by  the  peculiar  importance 
which  it  very  justly  gives  to  everlasting  happiness  and 
misery,  when  compared  with  the  brief  pains  or  pleas- 
ures of  this  life.  In  the  scale  of  selfish  gain,  it  is  a 
greater  quantity  of  physical  enjoyment  which  it  has  in 
view.  It  is  a  sager  selfislmess,  but  it  is  not  less  absolute 
selfishness  which  it  maintains."* 

"  This  form  of  the  selfish  system  is,  I  cannot  but  think, 
as  degrading  to  the  human  character,  as  any  other  form 
of  the  doctrine  of  absolute  selfishness ;  or  rather,  it  is  in 
itself  the  most  degrading  of  ail  the  forms  which  the  sel- 
fish system  can  assume :  because,  while  the  selfishness 
which  it  maintains  is  as  absolute  and  unremitting,  as  if 
the  objects  of  personal  gain  were  to  be  found  in  the 
wealth,  or  honors,  or  sensual  pleasures  of  this  earth  ;  this 
very  selfishness  is  rendered  more  offensive,  by  the  noble 
image  of  the  Deity  which  is  continually  presented  to  our 
mind,  and  presented  in  all  his  benevolence,  not  to  be 
loved,  but   to   be  courted   with  a  mockery  of  affection. 


*  Brown's  Philosophy,  Lect.  79. 


NATURE   OF   VIRTUE.  Qi6 

The  sensualist  of  the  common  system  of  selfishness,  who 
never  thinks  of  any  higher  object  in  the  pursuit  of  the 
little  pleasures  which  he  is  miserable  enough  to  regard 
as  ha})piness,  seems  to  me,  even  in  the  brutal  stupidity 
in  which  he  is  sunk,  a  being  more  worthy  of  esteem  than 
the  selfish  of  another  life ;  to  whose  view  God  is  ever 
present,  but  who  view  him  always  only  to  feel  constantly 
in  their  heart,  that  in  loving  him  who  has  been  the  dis- 
penser of  all  the  blessings  which  they  have  enjoyed,  and 
who  has  revealed  himself  in  the  glorious  character  of  the 
diflfuser  of  an  immortality  of  happiness,  they  love  not  the 
Giver  himself,  but  only  the  gifts  which  they  have  re- 
ceived, or  the  gifts  that  are  promised."* 

4.  A  fourth  supposition, — which  I  shall  endeavor  to 
illustrate  and  maintain, — makes  benevolence  the  leading 
trait  in  the  virtuous  character ;  and  makes  all  virtue, 
which  does  not  consist  in  benevolence,  to  consist  in  feel- 
ings that  harmonize  perfectly  with  the  views  of  benevo- 
lence. All  those  virtuous  feelings  that  are  not  directly 
benevolent,  yet  bear  such  a  relation  to  benevolence,  that 
their  separation  from  this  principle  would  render  the 
character  inconsistent  and  imperfect. 

Disinterested  benevolence  is  the  highest  and  most  un- 
equivocal exercise  of  virtue.  By  disinterested  benevo- 
lence, I  mean  a  benevolence  which  is  impartial  and  uni- 
versal in  its  nature  ;  which  desires  supremely  the  promo- 
tion of  the  greatest  good  of  the  universe,  and  desires  the 
happiness  of  individual  beings  in  proportion  to  the  capa- 
city of  happiness  which  they  are  known  or  conceived  to 
possess.  It  rejoices  in  happiness,  wherever  happiness 
exists;  always  prefers  a  greater  good  to  a  less;  and  is 
willing  that  the  less  good  should  be  sacrificed,  whenever 
it  is  necessary  in  order  to  secure  the  greater.     It  seldom, 

» Ibid. 

f2 


66  THEORY    OF   MORALS. 

perhaps,  makes  the  greatest  good  of  the  universe  the  di- 
rect object  of  desire,  because  it  seldom  makes  this  an 
object  of  thought  ;  but,  whenever  this  is  contemphited,  it 
becomes  the  object  of  supreme  desire  ;  and,  whatever  ob- 
jects are  contemplated  together  by  the  mind,  the  most 
important  always  preponderates.  In  the  view  of  the  en- 
yghtened  christian,  the  glorj  of  God  and  the  greatest 
good  of  the  universe,  are  identified  ;  and  he  feels,  that  ill 
desiring  supremely  that  the  will  of  God  may  be  done,  he 
virtually  desires  that  the  greatest  good  of  the  universe 
may  be  secured. 

it  is  obvious,  that  a  man  in  the  exercise  of  the  purest 
benevolence  may  make  his  own  happiness  an  object  of 
desire,  since  this  benevolence  prizes  every  object  accord- 
ing to  its  real  value.  The  evidence  of  pure  benevolence, 
however,  must  be  less  in  desiring  one's  own  happiness 
or  that  of  a  friend,  than  in  desiring  the  happiness  of  a 
stranger  or  an  enemy  ;  as  it  must  be  less  in  promoting 
the  happiness  of  another  where  it  can  be  done  without 
any  inconvenience  to  ourselves,  than  where  a  large  sacri- 
fice, without  hope  of  remuneration,  is  required. 

But  there  are  feelings,  different  in  their  nature  from 
those  just  described,  which  may,  nevertheless,  be  denom- 
inated benevolent.  Even  in  those  who  are  destitute  of 
christian  benevolence,  there  are  feelings  of  instinctive 
and  social  benevolence,  in  view  of  which  emotions  of 
moral  approbation  arise.  There  are  various  A  e lings  of 
kindness  in  social  intercourse,  and  various  affections  be- 
tween those  who  are  connected  by  the  ties  of  consan- 
guinity, which  render  the  possessor  more  amiable  in  our 
view,  and  which  may  therefore  be  denominated  virtuous. 

The  grand  object  of  desire,  is  happiness.  The  differ- 
ence between  selfishness  and  benevolence  is,  that  the 
former  makes  its  own  happiness  the  sole  object  of  desire  ; 
and  the  latter  desires  also  the  happiness  of  others.     The 


jtatiTre  of  vmT0iB.  8? 

tlifference  between  christian  benevolence  and  that  which 
is  of  an  inferior  kind,  is,  that  the  former  makes  the  gene- 
ral happiness  the  object  of  supreme  desire,  and  feels 
such  a  desire  of  the  happiness  of  individuals  as  will 
readily  give  place  to  the  superior  claims  of  an  object  of 
greater  magnitude,  whenever  occasion  requires ;  and  the 
latter  desires  the  happiness  of  individuals  and  of  the 
community  sincerely  indeed,  but  with  a  desire  of  such  a 
kind,  as  vanishes  the  moment  their  interest  comes  ia 
competition  with  its  own. 

It  is  to  be  remarked,  that  happiness  is  far  from  being 
the  sole  direct  object  of  desire.  Although  objects  are 
valuable  only  for  the  happiness  which  they  afford,  yet  we 
are  so  formed  as  to  desire  them,  frequently,  without  think- 
ing of  that  happiness.  The  objects  of  human  desire  are 
enumerated  by  Dr.  Brown  in  the  following  manner :  The 
desire  of  continued  existence,  of  pleasure,  of  action,  of 
society,  of  knowledge,  of  power,  of  the  affection  of  others, 
of  glory,  of  the  ha[)piness  of  others,  and  of  evil  to  others. 
But  although  we  may  desire  continued  existence,  action, 
society,  knowledge,  power,  and  the  affection  of  others, 
without  thinking  of  happiness  as  connected  with  the  attain- 
ment of  these  objects,  yet  it  was  wholly  for  the  sake  of  the 
happiness  which  they  may  afford,  that  our  benevolent 
Creator  formed  us  thus  to  desire  them.  Nor  are  any  of 
these  desires  virtaous,  except  the  desire  of  the  happiness 
of  ourselves  or  others.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that 
whenever  any  of  these  desires  would  lead  us  in  a  course 
that  would  diminish  the  general  happiness,  virtue  would 
require  us  to  relinquish  the  pursuit. 

It  sometimes  happens,  that  virtuous  feelings,  such  as 
compassion  or  filial  affection,  prompt  to  an  action,  which 
an  enlightened  mind  sees  to  be  inconsistent  with  the  views 
of  a  more  enlarged  benevolence.  In  such  a  case,  if  the 
general  tendency  of  the  action  is  perceived  by  the  indi- 


48  THEORY   OP    MORALS. 

vidual,  he  must  feel  it  to  be  his  duty  to  sacrifice  the  leSSJ 
object  to  the  greater.  As  our  Creator  endued  us  with 
these  inferior  principles  of  action  wholly  for  the  sake  of 
promoting  the  general  welfare,  it  is  evidently  our  duty 
to  keep  them  in  subordination  to  the  views  of  general  be- 
nevolence. In  order  to  place  this  subject  in  a  clear  light, 
let  us  suppose  that  1  have  an  opportunity  to  save  the  life 
of  one  out  of  two  human  beings,  of  whom  the  one  is  a 
parent  or  child,  and  the  other  unconnected  with  me  by 
the  ties  of  nature  or  affection,  but  obviously  and  decisively 
a  more  important  member  of  society  ; — which  of  the  two 
ought  I  to  save  ?  if  we  omit  all  consideration  of  any  dif- 
ference which  there  may  be  in  the  prospects  of  the  two 
individuals  in  regard  to  a  luture  state  of  existence,  the 
question  must  be  determined  by  a  balancing  of  the  proba- 
ble temporal  consequences  of  the  action.  If  I  save  the 
stranger,  and  leave  my  parent  or  child  to  perish,  it  may 
produce  a  bad  effect  on  all  who  are  unable  to  conceive 
the  real  motives  of  my  conduct;  for,  so  far  as  my  exam- 
ple has  influence  with  such,  the  tendency  of  it  is,  to  weak- 
en, in  them,  the  ties  of  natural  affection.  Now,  this  is 
an  evil  of  no  small  magnitude.  The  private  affections 
are  of  incalculable  importance  to  the  welfare  of  society. 
In  all,  who  are  destitute  of  a  more  exalted  benevolence, 
they  are  not  only  the  chief  source  of  enjoyment,  but  the 
only  preservative  from  a  thousand  crimes  and  sufferings. 
If,  then,  the  sacrifice  of  my  parent  or  child  for  the  sake 
of  a  stranger,  would  be  likely  to  weaken,  to  any  consid- 
erable extent,  the  ties  of  filial  or  parental  affection,  this 
evil  may  more  than  counterbalance  the  superior  value  of 
the  stranger^s  life.  The  consequences  resulting  to  myself 
from  each  part  of  the  alternative,  are,  perhaps,  hardly 
worth  mentioning.  If  1  have  made  the  sacrifice,  not  from 
any  deficiency  of  natural  afi'ection,  but  m.erely  from  being 
actuated  by  a  principle  of  a  superior  order,  there  is  no 


NATURE    OF    VIRTUE,  69 

danger  lest  such  an  act  should  weaken,  in  myself,  the  ties 
of  natural  aifection  toward  surviving  relatives  and  friendij. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  i)ain  which  I  must  feel  in  having 
torn  asunder  one  of  these  ties,  will  he  compensated  to  me 
by  the  approbation  of  conscience  for  having  performed 
an  act  of  virtue  so  exalted. — On  the  whole,  I  undertake 
not  to  say,  what  decision  ought  to  be  formed  in  any  parti- 
cular case  of  this  kind.  The  decision  ought  not,  I  think, 
to  be  always  the  same  ;  but  to  differ  according  to  varying 
circumstances.  The  subject  was  introduced  for  the  sake 
of  exhibiting  more  clearly  the  general  principles,  by 
which  a  man  of  an  enlightened  mind  and  of  disinterested 
virtue,  governs  his  conduct. 

It  seems  proper,  in  this  place,  to  make  a  few  remarks 
on  a  question,  w^hich  has  usually  been  regarded  as  of  pri- 
mary importance  in  the  theory  of  morals  : 

What  is  the  Foundation  of  Moral  Obligation? 

It  is  somewhat  difficult  to  ascertain  the  precise  mean- 
ing of  the  phrase,  '  Foundation  of  Moral  Obligation.' 
What  moral  obligation  is^  has  already  been  shown.  To 
feel  under  obligation  to  perform  an  action,  is  to  feel  an 
emotion  of  approbation  of  the  motives  which  would  lead 
to  the  performance  of  the  action,  and  of  disapprobation  of 
the  motives  which  would  hinder  its  performance.  The 
question.  What  is  the  foundation  of  the  obligation  to  per- 
form the  action  ?  may  mean  either.  Why  do  we  feel  those 
emotions  of  approbation  and  disapprobation  ?  or.  Why  would 
those  motives  which  conscience  approves,  lead  to  the  per- 
formance of  the  action ;  and  those  which  conscience  disap- 
proves, hinder  its  performance  ?  The  latter  of  these  inqui-> 
ries,is  that  which  we  have  been  pursuing.  Our  desires  lead 
us  to  perform  such  actions,  as  will  accomplish  the  object 
desired.  Virtuous  actions  are  such  as  are  designed  to 
accomplish  those  objects,  in  the  desire  of  which  virtue 


70  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

consists.  One  object  of  virtuous  desire,  is  happiness.  Be- 
nevolence, therefore,  leads  us  to  perform  such  actions,  a« 
are  promotive  of  happiness.  It  is,  perhaps,  hardly  ne- 
cessary to  remark,  that  benevolence,  in  desiring  the  pro- 
duction or  increase  of  happiness,  desires,  of  course,  the 
removal  or  alleviation  of  suffering;  and  the  latter  is  a 
direct  object  of  desire,  as  well  as  the  former. 

Another  objectof  virtuous  desire,  is  moral  approbation. 
If  it  were  possible,  however,  for  a  man  to  be  totally  des- 
titute of  every  other  virtuous  motive,  and  to  act  solely 
for  the  sake  of  gaining  his  own  approbation  and  that  of 
others,  I  think  that  his  merit  would  be  generally  acknowl- 
edged to  be  very  small.  A  desire  of  approbation  and  a 
dread  of  disapprobation,  are  rather  an  index  of  virtue, 
than  virtue  itself;  and  are  probably,  in  fact,  valued  less 
for  the  degree  of  virtue  which  they  are  supposed  to  in- 
volve, than  for  the  indication  they  afford  of  the  habitual 
existence  of  other  virtuous  feelings. 

The  other  question  mentioned  above,  requires  a  few 
remarks ; — ^  Why  do  we  feel  certain  moral  emotions,  in 
view  of  certain  moral  feelings  V 

To  say,  that  we  feel  these  emotions  because  we  are  so 
constituted^  is  only  to  say,  that  we  feel  them  because  we 
always  do  feel  them,  and  because  all  men  feel  them. 
Why,  then,  are  we  so  constituted  by  our  Creator  ? — in 
other  words.  Why  has  he  willed,  that  mankind  should 
feel  these  emotions  ?  The  answer  is,  Because  he  desires 
the  happiness  of  his  creatures,  and  could  in  no  other  way 
make  them  so  happy, — could  in  no  other  way  make  them 
so  much  to  resemble  himself,  as  by  making  them  to  feeF, 
not  merely  virtuous  desires  and  affections,  but  also  aii 
approbation  of  virtue  and  a  disapprobation  of  vice. 


(71) 

CHAPTFR  III. 

Degree  of  Virtue, 

The  degree  of  virtue  in  an  action  depends  on  the 
strength  of  virtuous  feeling  implied.  Tiie  character  of 
an  individual  is  virtuous  in  proportion  to  the  frequency 
and  strength  of  his  virtuous  feelings.  So  far  is  plain. 
The  only  difficulty  lies  in  judging  of  the  frequency  and 
strfuigth  of  virtuous  feelings  by  external  actions.  On 
this  subject,  I  shall  confine  myself  to  some  remarks  on 
the  manner  in  which  the  degree  of  virtue  is  affected  by 
iempiation  and  by  habit  ;  and  also  on  the  manner  in  which 
our  estimate  of  the  degree  of  virtue  is  affected  by  the  re- 
sult of  an  action,  when  this  result  is  different  from  the  in- 
tention of  the  actor. 

1.  The  influence  of  temptation  on  the  degree  of  vir] 
tue. 

Temptation  may  either  diminish  or  increase  the  de- 
gree of  virtue.  It  may  excite  wrong  feelings,  and  lead 
to  a  vicious  action,  in  a  case,  in  which,  without  the 
temptation,  the  feelings  and  the  conduct  would  have 
been  virtuous.  In  this  case,  we  should  err,  if  we  regard 
ed  the  particular  act  of  vice  as  an  index  of  the  general 
character.  But  in  another  case,  where  a  temptation  is 
presented,  there  may  have  been  such  wrong  feelings  as 
would  have  led  to  the  commission  of  the  crime  without 
the  temptation;  and  in  this  case,  we  are  liable  to  err  by 
regarding  the  temptation  as  an  extenuation  of  the  guilt. 
Again,  temptation  may  excite  some  wrong  feelings  in  a 
virtuous  breast,  sufhcient,  not  to  prevail  over  the  virtu- 
ous feelings  indeed,  but  so  to  diminish  their  number  and 
strength,  as  to  render  the  degree  of  virtue  in  acting  very 
^  small.  In  this  case,  a  man  has  the  credit  of  superior  vir- 
tue, on  account  of  his  victory  over  temptation  j  and  this 


V2  THEORY    OF    MORALS. 

credit,  though  not  due  to  him  on  acconnt  of  the  virtue 
involved  in  the  victory  itself,  may  yet  be  due  when  we 
consider  this  victory  as  an  index  of  the  habitual  exercise 
of  virtuous  feelings.  Again,  the  effort  that  is  made  to  re- 
sist temptation,  hy  the  man  of  determined  virtue,  may 
give  occasion  to  more  numerous  and  more  vigorous  feel- 
ings of  virtue,  than  would  have  arisen  without  the  temp- 
tation. In  like  manner,  the  degree  of  virtue  may  be  in- 
creased by  the  effort  that  is  made  to  surmount  any  obsta- 
cles whatever  to  the  performance  of  a  virtuous  action. 
These  obstacles  may  properly  be  called  a  temptation,  not, 
indeed,  to  perform  a  bad  action,  but  to  abstain  from  per- 
forming a  good  one.  On  the  whole,  yielding  to  tempta- 
tion indicates  a  much  less  degree  of  vice  in  the  character, 
than  committing  the  same  crime  without  temptation  ;  and 
resisting  temptation,  especially  performing  a  virtuous  ac- 
tion notwithstanding  a  temptation  to  the  contrary,  or  sur- 
mounting obstacles  of  any  other  kind,  indicates  a  much 
greater  degree  of  virtue  in  the  character,  than  perform- 
ing the  same  actions  where  there  is  no  temptation  to  be 
resisted  or  obstacle  to  be  surmounted ; — though  the  indi- 
cation is  by  no  means  infallible,  since  the  degree  of  vice 
may  be  as  great  with  temptation  as  without  it,  and  the 
degree  of  virtue  may  be  as  great  without  temptations  and 
obstacles  as  with  them. 

2.  The  influence  of  habit  on  the  degree  of  virtue. 
By  habit,  here,  we  are  not  to  understand  the  habitual 
exercise  of  virtuous  feelings,  for  the  effect  of  this  on 
the  degree  of  virtue  in  the  character,  needs  no  illustra- 
tion; but  the  habitual  performance  of  virtuous  actions.  In  the 
first  place,  we  may  presume,  that  the  habit  of  virtuous  ac- 
tion was  originally  formed  by  the  habitual  exercise  ol  virtu- 
ous feelings.  Here  is  an  aggregate  of  virtue,  that  is  not  to 
be  overlooked.  But  what  I  would  chiefly  inquire,  is, 
what  evidence  the  continued  performance  of  the  same 
habitual  actions,  affords  ol  the  continued  exercise  of  vir- 


DEGREE    OF    VIRTUE.  73 

tuous  feelings,  and  of  the  frequency  and  strength  of  those 
feelings. 

I  think  it  must  be  admitted,  that  actions,  to  which  we 
were  at  first  prompted  by  virtuous  feelings,  are  frequent- 
ly, when  they  have  become  habitual,  performed  without 
the  recurrence  of  those  feelingi<.  But  1  cannot  bf^lieve, 
that  where  the  habit  of  virtuous  action  continues,  the  habit 
of  virtuous  feeling  can  have  entirely  ceased.  If  it  had,  temp- 
tation would  resume  its  force,  the  m:m  would  fall  into 
vice,  and  his  virtuous  habits  be  broken  off.  Man  cannot 
cease  to  be  a  moral  agent.  As  soon  as  virtuous  feelings 
cease  to  occupy  the  breast,  those  of  the  contrary  nature 
will  enter.  Still,  it  appears,  that  as  virtuous  actions  be- 
come habitual,  and  temptations  lose  their  force  by  being 
continually  and  uniformly  resisted,  the  virtuous  feelings, 
which  are  connected  with  these  habitual  actions,  may  be- 
come weaker  than  they  originally  were.  Most  of  those 
associations  of  ideas  which  involve  temptation,  having 
been  dissolved,  the  weakness  of  the  virtuous  feelings 
does  not  necessarily  expose  the  mind  to  the  assault  of 
temptation  ;  and  in  case  an  assault  is  made,  it  being  more 
unusual,  the  alarm  is  greater,  and  the  slumbering  virtues 
are  at  once  aroused  to  vigilance  and  to  action.  To  con- 
clude, we  may  venture  to  say,  that  in  a  man  who  is  con- 
firmed in  virtuous  habits,  the  correspondent  virtuous  feel- 
ings are  also  habitual,  though,  perhaps,  not  perfectly  uni- 
form, uor  always  so  vigorous  as  at  first,  or  as  some  of  his 
other  virtuous  feelings,  excited  by  circumstances  less  ha- 
bitual and  familiar,  now  are  ;  and  that  what  is  wanting  in 
the  strength  of  these  habitual  virtuous  feelings,  is  made  up 
by  their  greater  frequency,  and  by  the  more  uniform  ex- 
clusion of  those  wrong  feelings,  which  intruded  more  fre- 
quently and  with  greater  force,  while  the  habits  of  virtue 
were  not  yet  fully  confirmed. 


74  THEORY   or    MORALS. 

3.  There  is  another  thing  which  affects,  not  the  degree 
of  virtue  itself,  but  the  estimate  which  we  form  of  it.  I 
allude  to  what  Dr.  Smith  terms  ''  the  influence  of  for- 
tune."* We  are  prone  to  commend  or  blame  a  man, 
rather  according  to  the  actual  consequences  of  his  actions, 
than  according  to  the  evidence  which  his  actions  afford  of 
good  or  bad  intentions.  '^  The  effect  of  the  influence  of 
fortune,"  says  Dr.  Smith,  "  is,  first,  to  diminish  our  sense 
of  the  merit  or  demerit  of  those  actions  which  arose  from 
the  most  laudable  or  blamable  intentions,  when  they  fail 
of  producing  their  proposed  effects;  and,  secondly,  to 
increase  our  sense  of  the  merit  or  demerit  of  actions,  be- 
yond what  is  due  to  the  motives  or  affections  from  which 
they  proceed,  when  they  accidentally  give  occasion  either 
to  extraordinary  pleasure  or  pain."  This  error  in  judg- 
ing of  human  conduct,  is  so  common,  and  one  of  which 
so  few  are  unapprised,  that  I  forbear  to  offer  any  illus- 
tration. The  frequency  and  extent  of  the  error,  are 
happily  illustrated  by  Dr.  Smith.  1  am  inclined,  howev- 
er, to  account  for  it  in  a  manner  different  from  his.  I 
would  ascribe  it  to  erroneous  conceptions  of  the  motives 
from  which  an  individual  acts.  The  external  actions  of 
men  are  the  only  means  we  have  of  learning  their  mo- 
tives. When  an  action  fails  of  producing  its  intended 
effects,  we  find  it  difiicult  to  conceive  of  the  man  as  real- 
ly intending  the  production  of  those  effects.  The  cus- 
tomary evidence  of  his  intentions  is  wanting ;  and  though 
the  evidence  which  is  afforded  may  be  in  itself  sufficient, 
yet  we  continually  forget  this  ;  and  hence  our  concep- 
tions of  his  moral  feelings  are  obscure  and  defective,  in 
like  manner,  when  an  action  is  productive  of  more  good 
or  more  harm  than  was  intended,  we  find  it  difficult  to 
avoid  conceiving  of  the  man  as  intending  all  the  effects 
which  actually  follow.     Being  in  the  habit  of  regarding 


*  Theory  of  M«ral  Sentiments,  Part  II.  Section  3. 


DEGREE    OF    VIRTUE.  75 

Sill  the  effects  of  actions  as  comprised  in  the  intention  of 
the  actor,  when  we  see  the  effects  which  are  actually 
produced,  conceptions  of  the  motives  which  usually  lead 
to  such  effects,  spontaneously  arise ;  and  we  cannot  easily 
check  these  conceptions,  although  we  are  aware  that  the 
case  before  us  is  an  exception  to  the  general  rule.  Be- 
sides, the  excitement  produced  in  our  feelings  by  a  view 
of  the  happy  or  unhappy  consequences  of  the  action, 
prepares  our  minds  to  entertain  the  more  readily  those 
conceptions  which  naturally  arise.  If  the  consequences 
are  happy,  the  sympathy  we  feel  with  those  who  are 
made  happy,  disposes  us  to  imagine  their  benefactor  to 
be  worthy  of  all  the  gratitude,  which  the  production  of 
so  much  happiness  naturally  inspires.  If  the  consequen- 
ces are  unhappy,  the  pain  which  we  feel,  disposes  us  to 
ascribe,to  the  author  of  the  mischief,  intentions  bad  enough 
to  produce  all  this  evil.     If,  indeed,  we  know  that  no  evil 

was  intended  in  the  one    cue©,    and  no  good  in  the  Other, 

our  conceptions  of  good  and  ill  desert  are  checked  at 
once  ;  but  if  we  have  evidence  that  some  evil  was  intend- 
ed in  the  one  case,  and  some  good  in  the  other,  the  state 
of  our  mind  disposes  us  to  imagine  the  intentions  to  have 
been  proportioned  to  the  actual  effects. 

The  views  which  have  been  taken  in  this  chapter,  and 
also  the  remarks  of  Dr.  Brown  on  '^  the  complexity  of 
actions,"  quoted  in  a  former  chapter,  may  serve  to  show 
how  very  liable  we  are  to  err,  in  judging  of  the  motives 
from  which  men  act;  and  especially,  in  estimating  the 
degree  of  merit  or  demerit  involved  in  the  performance 
of  a  particular  action. 


PRACTICAL  ETHICS. 

CHLiLTTHB.  Z. 

The  Rule  of  Duty. 

The  great  object  of  virtuous  desire,  is  the  promotion 
of  happiness.  The  various  duties  of  virtue,  are  only 
various  means  of  promoting  this  object.  It  is  our  external 
actions  only,  that  can  directly  affect  the  happiness  of 
others.  Our  thoughts  and  feelings^  hov^^ever,  besides 
their  direct  influence  on  our  own  happiness,  are  the 
sources  from  which  all  our  external  actions  proceed.  In 
regard  to  our  thoughts^  therefore,  we  are  under  obliga- 
tion, as  far  as  they  are  produced  or  influenced  by  our 
moral  feelings, — and  they  are  thus  produced  and  influen* 
ced  in  no  small  degree, — to  control  and  direct  them  in 
that  way,  which  we  have  reason  to  believe  will  be  most 
likely  to  excite  right  feelings,  which  will  guard  most  ef- 
fectually against  wrong  feelings,  and  which  will  be  most 
likely  to  increase  our  knowledge  and  skill  in  the  art  of 
doing  good.  When  we  consider  how  much  our  actions 
are  influenced  by  the  habits  of  thinking  which  we  form, 
we  cannot  but  perceive,  that  the  proper  regulation  of 
the  thoughts,  is  a  duty  of  very  great  magnitude. 

In  regard  to  our  external  conduct^  we  are  under  obliga- 
tion to  perform,  to  the  extent  of  our  ability  and  oppor- 
tunity, all  those  actions  which  we  know  or  believe  to 
have  a  tendency  to  promote  the  general  happiness.  When 
different  actions  are  presented  to  our  choice,  of  which 
we  can  do  but  one,  we  are  under  obligation  to  do  that 
which  appears  to  have  the  most  useful  tendency,    Whe^ 


RULE    OF    DUTY.  77 

we  cannot  judge  with  certainty  what  action  has  the  most 
beneficial  tendency,  or  cannot  determine  whether  the 
tendency  of  an  action  be  beneficial  or  the  contrary,  we 
are  bound,  after  obtaining  all  the  light  we  can,  to  act  ac- 
cording to  apparent  probabilities.  Frequently,  however, 
the  doubtful  tendency  of  an  action  is  a  sufhcient  reason 
for  dismissing  it  from  our  consideration^ — the  prospect  of 
benefit,  in  case  we  should  find  the  action  to  be  a  useful 
one,  not  being  great  enough,  to  make  it  expedient  to 
spend  that  time  in  deliberating  and  inquiring  about  it, 
which  we  might  spend  in  doing  something  else  that  we 
know  to  be  useful.  In  case  we  apprehend  that  the  doing 
of  an  action  may  be  injurious,  and  that  the  abstaining 
from  it  may  also  be  injurious,  we  are  bound,  ''  of  the 
two  evils  10  choose  the  least ;"  or,  in  other  words,  to 
pursue  that  course,  where  there  is  the  least  reason  toap. 
prebend  evil,  or  where  there  is  the  least  evil  to  be  ap^ 
prehended. 

"  In  every  question  of  conduct,  where  one  side  is 
doubtful,  and  the  other  side  safe,  we  are  bound  to  take 
the  safe  side.  It  is  prudent^  you  allow,  to  take  the  safe 
side.  But  our  observation  means  something  more.  We 
assert  that  the  action,  concerning  which  we  doubt,  what- 
ever it  may  be  in  itself,  or  to  another,  would,  in  us^  while 
this  doubt  remains  upon  our  minds,  be  certainly  sinful. 
The  case  is  expressly  so  adjudged  by  St.  Paul  :*  '  Iknow 
and  am  persuaded  by  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  there  is  no- 
thing unclean  of  itself;  but  to  him  that  esteerneih  any  thing 
to  be  unclean^  to  him  it  is  unclean. — Happy  is  he  that  con- 
demneth  not  himself  in  that  thing  which  he  alloweth ; 
and  he  that  doubteth  is  damned  {condemned)  if  he  eat, 


■*  Romans,  xiv.  14,  22;  23. 

g2 


M  PRACTICAL    ETttlCS* 

for  whatsoever  is  not  of  faith,  (i.  e.  not  done  with  a  full 
persuasion  of  its  lawfulness,)  is  sin.'  "* 

An  important  inquiry  now  arises : 

How  are  we  to  know  what  actions  are  most  promotive  of 
the  general  happiness  ? 

Here  1  would  observe,  that  the  general  happiness  ig 
only  the  aggregate  of  the  happiness  of  individuals ;  so 
that  we  add  to  the  general  stock  of  happiness  by  contri- 
buting to  the  happiness  of  an  individual,  whenever  we 
can  do  this  without  diminishing  the  happiness  of  any 
other  individual.  And,  in  most  cases,  no  fear  of  this 
kind  need  be  entertained. — But  how  shall  we  know  what 
actions  are  most  conducive  to  the  happiness  both  of  indi- 
viduals and  of  the  community  ? 

1.  By  the  experience  and  observation  of  ourselves  and 
others. 

We  readily  learn,  by  experience,  what  things  are  con- 
ducive to  our  present  cemfort  and  happiness  ;  and  we  ea- 
sily infer,  that  the  same  things  will  produce  the  same  ef- 
fect upon  mankind  in  general.  Said  our  Savior,  ''  What- 
soever ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye 
even  so  to  them."  AVhere  experience  fails  to  afford  us 
information,  observation  may  frequently  supply  the  de- 
fect. By  observing  how  certain  things  affect  particular  in- 
dividuals and  men  in  general,  we  may  learn,  in  many  in- 
stances, how  to  promote  the  happiness  of  individuals 
and  of  society.  But  it  is  not  a  limited  or  temporary  ef- 
fect alone,  that  is  to  be  considered.  A  certain  action 
may  be  beneficial  to  one  man  and  injurious  to  others ;  or 
it  may  aftbrd  a  temporary  gratification,  but  diminish  the 
sum  of  happiness  in  the  end.  It  hence  becomes  necessa- 
ry, in  regard  to  many  actions,  to  have  recourse  to  the 
experience  and  observation  of  others ;  and  sometimes,  of 
men  who  have  lived  in  different  ages  and  in  different  na- 


*  Paley'«  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  L  Chap.  T. 


RULE    OF   DUTY.  79 

tiona  of  the  world.  It  also  happens,  not  unfreqnently, 
that  a  certain  action,  when  viewed  by  itself,  appears  to 
be  conducive  to  happiness ;  but  when  it  is  considered, 
that  this  may  lead  to  the  formation  of  a  bad  habit^  or  may 
have  an  influence,  by  way  of  example^  that  shall  lead  to 
evil  consequences,  it  becomes  doubtful  whether  the  pre- 
sent advantage  is  suflicient  to  overbalance  the  danger  of 
future  injury.  In  such  cases,  the  combined  experience  and 
wisdom  of  mankind  are  peculiarly  needed  ;  and  the  result 
of  that  experience  and  wisdom  becomes  the  most  useful  to 
individuals,  by  being  expressed  in  general  rules  or  maxims 
of  conduct,  which  may  be  applied,  without  deliberation, 
to  a  great  variety  of  particular  cases. — But  this  subject  is 
very  happily  introduced  by  Dr.  Paley.  After  observing 
that  "'  actions  are  to  be  estimated  by  their  tendency," 
and  that  "  it  is  the  utility  of  any  moral  rule  alone  which 
constitutes  the  obligation  of  it,"  he  proceeds  thus : 

"  But  to  all  this  there  seems  a  plain  objection,  viz.  that 
many  actions  are  useful,  which  no  man  in  his  senses  will 
allow  to  be  right.  There  are  occasions,  in  which  the 
hand  of  the  assassin  would  be  very  useful.  The  present 
possessor  of  some  great  estate  employs  his  influence  and 
fortune  to  annoy,  corrupt,  or  oppress  all  about  him.  His 
estate  would  devolve,  by  his  death,  to  a  successor  of  an 
opposite  character.  It  is  useful,  therefore,  to  despatch 
such  a  one  as  soon  as  possible  out  of  the  way ;  as  the 
neighborhood  will  exchange  thereby  a  pernicious  tyrant 
for  a  wise  and  generous  benefactor.  It  might  be  useful 
to  rob  a  miser,  and  give  the  money  to  the  poor ;  as  the 
money,  no  doubt,  would  produce  more  hap]>iness,  by  be- 
ing laid  out  in  food  and  clothing  tor  half  a  dozen  distress- 
ed families,  than  by  continuing  locked  up  in  a  miser's 
chest.  It  may  be  useful  to  get  possession  of  a  place  of 
preferment,  or  of  a  seat  in  parliament,  by  bribery  or 
false  svirearing ;  as  by  means  of  them  we  may  serve  the 


80  PRACTICAL    ETHICS* 

public  more  effectually  than  in  our  private  station.  What 
then  shall  we  say  ?  Must  we  a(ln>it  these  actions  to  be 
right,  which  would  be  to  justify  assassination,  plunder, 
and  perjury  ;  or  must  we  give  up  our  principle,  that  the 
criterion  of  right  is  utility  ? 

^'  It  is  not  necessary  to  do  either.  The  true  answer  is 
this  ;  that  these  actions,  after  all,  are  not  useful,  and  for 
that  reason,  and  that  alone,  are  not  right.  To  see  this 
point  perfectly,  it  must  be  observed  that  the  bad  conse- 
quences of  actions  are  twofold,  particular  and  general. 
The  particular  bad  consequence  of  an  action  is,  the  mis- 
chief which  that  single  action  directly  and  immediately 
occasions.  The  general  bad  consequence  is,  the  viola- 
tion of  some  necessary  or  useful  general  ruleP''  Although, 
therefore,  the  particular  consequences  of  an  action  may 
be  good,  yet  the  general  consequences,  which  are  of  more 
importance,  may  be  evil ;  so  that  the  action,  on  the 
whole,  may  not  be  useful,  but  the  contrary. 

The  evil  of  violating  a  general  rule,  consists  in  the 
danger  of  forming  a  had  habit ;  in  the  liability  of  individ- 
uals to  make  an  erroneous  estimate  of  the  consequences  of 
the  violation ;  in  the  loss  of  confidence  among  men  ;  and  in 
the  influence  of  example » 

If  a  person  commits  solitary  acts  of  "  assassination, 
plunder,  and  perjury,"  whenever  he  thinks  they  are  use- 
ful, he  will  thus  divest  himself  of  the  horror  and  detesta- 
tion which  he  felt  at  those  acts  when  committed  lor  wick- 
ed purposes.  He  thus  becomes  prepared  to  commit  the 
same  acts  in  cases  where  their  utility  appears  doubtful  j 
and  finally,  to  commit  them  whenever  his  private  interest 
or  his  passions  prompt.  It  cannot  be  denied,  I  think, 
that  such  is  the  tendency  of  allowing  one's  self  in  occa- 
sional transgressions  of  a  general  rule.  And  the  danger 
of  such  a  result  is  increased  by  another  consideration.  If 
a  man  may  violate  a  general  rule,  whenever,  in  his  pri- 


RULE    OF    DUTY^  81 

vate  judgment,  he  thinks  such  a  violation  useful,  it  be- 
comes necessary  that  he  should  deliberate  in  regard  to 
every  particular  act  that  falls  under  a  general  rule,  and 
make  an  estimate,  before  he  acts,  of  the  probable  conse- 
quences both  of  observing  and  of  violating  the  rule. 
This  must  not  only  occasion  great  delay  in  acting,  and 
lead  to  a  habit  of  hesitation  and  indecision  in  all  one's 
conduct,  but  a  man  is  more  likely  to  be  influenced 
by  wrong  motives,  and  to  overlook  the  most  weighty 
considerations,  in  the  moment  of  acting,  than  in  deter- 
mining beforehand  by  whal  general  rule  he  will  be  gov- 
erned. More  than  this,  few  individuals  are  competent, 
if  ever  so  impartial,  to  judge  of  the  remote  consequen- 
ces of  such  an  action  ;  so  that  it  is  safer  to  adhere  to  a 
general  rule,  which  the  experience  and  wisdom  of  man- 
kind have  established,  than  to  violate  it  in  a  particular  in- 
stanccj  for  the  sake  of  some  good  consequences  that  will 
flow  from  it,  and,  at  the  ^ame  time,  nm  the  risk  of  great- 
er evil  consequences  that  are  not  foreseen.  The  same 
consideration  should  deter  individuals,  not  only  from  violat- 
ing established  general  rules  in  particular  emergencies, 
but  also  from  presuming  to  form  rules  of  conduct  for  them- 
selves in  opposition  to  those  which  the  wisdom  and  expe- 
rience of  ages  have  prescribed. 

I  have  mentioned  the  hesitation,  indecision,  and  loss 
of  time,  which  must  arise  from  the  rejection  of  general 
rules,  and  from  making  the  consequences  of  every  par- 
ticular action  the  subject  of  particular  calculation.  It 
would,  indeed,  be  a  piece  of  madness,  and  perhaps  utter- 
ly impracticable,  to  do  this  in  regard  to  every  individual 
action  of  a  man's  life  ;  but  just  so  far  as  it  is  done  to  the 
neglect  of  those  rules  of  conduct  whose  usefulness  is 
generally  acknowledged,  in  this  proportion  must  the  bad 
effects  1  have  mentioned  be  produced.  This  indecision 
of  character,  and  instability  of  conduct,  are  an  evil  of  no 


82 


PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 


J  jsmall  magnitude.     When  it  is  understood  that  a  man  does 
f  not  bind  himself  to  the  observance  of  general  rules  in  his 
conduct,  no  one  can  know  what  to  expect  from  him,  and 
the  confidence,  even   of  his  best  friends,  must  be  with- 
drawn.    If  we    suppose  the   number  of  individuals  who 
renounce  the  obligation  of  general  rules,  to  be  increased, 
I  so  as  to  embrace  any  considerable  proportion  of  mankind, 
f^  the  loss  of  confidence  must  become  so  great,  as  almost  to 
i  produce  a  dissolution  of  civil  society. 

But  perhaps  the  evil  of  violating  a  general  rule  appears 
the  most  obvious  and  striking,  when  we  consider  the  influ- 
ence oiexample.  The  person  who  tells  a  lie,or  plunders  the 
property  of  his  neighbor,  for  the  sake  of  doing  good,  af- 
fords a   pretence  to  those  who    would  commit  the  same 
^  acts  from  worse  motives.     He  even  countenances  them 
f  in  their  conduct,  as  the  motives  of  his  own  are  not  pub- 
f  licly    known.      In   all  such  cases,  thi^refore,  the  precept 
^  of  the  apostle  ought  to  be  regarded :  "  Abstain  from  all 
appearance   of  eviV'     The  tendency  of  example  is,  to 
lead  all  others  to  act  in  the  same  manner.     If,  therefore, 
^  it  would  not  be  for  the  general  good,  that  nil  others  should 
;  act  in  the  same  manner,  the  example  ought  not  to  be  set. 
•*  It  is  evident,  that  a  man  ought  not  to  act  in  a  manner, 
in  which  it   would  not  be  beneficial  for  men  generally 
to  act  in  the  same  circumstances.     But  a  peculiarity  of  cir- 
cumstances is    not  always  a  sufficient   reason   for  acting 
in  a  manner,  in  which  it  would  be  detrimental  for  men 
I  generally  to  act,-— especially  if  the  peculiarity  consists  in 
p  circumstances    of   minor   importance     and    not  publicly 
p  known.     Men  are  influenced  by  example,   especially  if 
^'  the  example  falls  in  with  interest  or  inclination,  without 
'  adverting  to  peculiar  circumstances  of  minor  importance, 
p-€ven  if  they  art  known  to  them.     In  estimating  theinflu- 
pcnce  of  example,  we  should  consider,  not  what  influence 
the     example    ought   to   havt',    or   in  what  manner  oth- 
er men  ought  to  act,  but  what  influence  the  example  is 


RULE    OF    DUTY.  83 

likely  in  fact  to  have,  and  in  what  manner  depraved  men 
may  be  led  by  it  really  to  act. 

But  suppose  that  a  general  rule  can  be  violated  in  a  se^ 
c^et  manner,  so  that  the  influence  of  example  shall  be 
avoided,  what  bad  consequences  are  to  be  apprehended  ? 
In  reply,  I  would  remark,  tirst,  that  no  one  who  commits 
such  an  act  in  secret,  can  be  certain  that  it  will  never  be 
brought  to  light.  And  in  case  it  is  detected,  the  conse- 
quences may  be  worse  than  if  there  had  been  no  attempt 
at  concealment.  In  the  second  place,  even  if  the  influ- 
ence of  example  is  wholly  avoided,  the  danger  of  a  de- 
moralizing influence  on  the  person  himself^  remains.  In 
the  third  place,  such  a  person  will  probably,  on  some 
occasion  or  other,  be  under  a  necessity  of  expressing  an 
opinion  in  regard  to  the  duty  of  adhering  invariably  to 
general  rules.  If  he  expresses,  or  in  any  way  betrays, 
his  real  sentiments,  that  a  general  rule  may  be  violated 
for  the  sake  of  some  particular  good  consequences,  when- 
ever it  can  be  done  with  perfect  secrecy,  he  will  ex- 
pose himself  to  the  suspicion  of  having  carried  his  prin- 
ciples into  practice,  and  will  remove  the  scruples  of  oth- 
ers who  have  an  inclination  to  do  the  same  ;  thus  *•'  set- 
ting up  a  general  rule,  of  all  others  the  least  to  be  endur- 
ed ;  namely,  that  secrecy,  whenever  secrecy  is  practica- 
ble, will  justify  any  action.''*  On  the  other  hand,  if  he 
contradicts  his  real  sentiments,  and  advocates  an  invaria- 
ble adherence  to  general  rules,  he  will  do  violence  to  his 
own  conscience,  and  lay  a  foundation  for  a  habit  of  insin- 
cerity, deception,  and  falsehood,  the  most  ruinous  in  its 
consequences. 

There  is  one  class  of  crimes,  in  relation  to  which  the 
necessity  of  general  rules  and  the  evil  tendency  of  vio- 
lating them,  are  very  apparent.     I  allude  to  those  crimes 

«  Paley. 


$^  PRACTICAL   ETHICS. 

which  are  forbiddea  by  human  laws.  "  You  cannot  per- 
mit onc;?  action  and  forbid  another,  without  showing  a  dif- 
ference between  them.  Coosequcntly,  the  same  sort  of 
actions  mnst  be  generally  permUted  or  generally  forbid- 
den. Where,  iLeroibre,  the  general  permission  of  them 
would  be  pernicious,  it  becomos  ntxessary  to  lay  down 
and  support  the  rule  v\blch  geiieraliy  forbids  them. 

'^  Thus,  to  return  once  more  to  the  case  of  the  assassin. 
The  assassin  knocked  the  rich  villain  on  the  head,  because 
he  thought  him  better  out  of  the  way  than  in  it.  If  you 
allow  this  excuse  in  the  present  instance,  you  must  allow 
it  to  all  w^ho  act  in  the  same  manner,  and  irom  the  same 
motive  ;  that  is,  you  must  allow  every  man  to  kill  any  one 
he  meets,  whom  he  thinks  noxious  or  useless ;  which,  in 
the  event,  would  be  to  commit  every  man's  life  and  safety 
to  the  spleen,  fury,  and  fanaticism  of  his  neighbor  ; — a  dia- 
position  of  affairs  which  would  soon  fill  the  world  with 
misery  and  confusion  ;  and  ere  long  put  an  end  to  human 
society,  if  not  to  the  human  species."* 

Human  government  cannot  exist  without  general  rules  ; 
and  these  must,  of  necessity,  be  rigidly  enforced.  The 
violation  of  the  civil  law,  for  the  sake  of  some  particu- 
lar good  consequences,  involves  in  it  evil  consequences 
of  a  two-fold  kind.  In  the  first  place,  there  are  the  same 
general  bad  consequences  as  in  the  violation  of  any  other 
general  rule  ;  and  in  the  second  place,  there  is  the  viola- 
tion of  an  additional  important  general  rule,  namely,  that 
the  law  of  the  land  ought  to  be  obeyed.  The  mischiefs 
of  insubordination  in  government,  and  the  pernicious  in- 
fluence of  the  example  which  is  set  by  him  who  tram- 
ples upon  the  civil  law,  are  so  great,  that  the  consequen- 
ces  would  be  fatal  to  society,  were  not  the  strong  arm  of 
ppwer  generally  able  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  evil. 


•fPaley's  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  II.  Chap.  7. 


RULE    OF    DUTY.  85 

The  injunction  of  St.  Paul  is  in  point :  "  Let  every  soul 
be  subject  to  the  higher  powers." 

From  the  principles  that  we  have  been  insisting  upon, 
"  a  maxim  may  be  explained,  which  is  in  every  man's 
mouth,  and  in  most  men's  without  meaning,  viz.  '  not  to 
do  evil,  that  good  may  come  :'  that  is,  let  us  not  violate  a 
general  rule,  for  the  sake  of  any  particular  good  con- 
sequence we  may  expect."* 

The  importance  and  duty  of  a  rigid  adherence  to  gen- 
eral rules,  cannot  be  too  deeply  impressed  on  the  minds 
of  the  young.  The  subject  ought  to  be  explained  and  in- 
culcated by  every  parent  and  by  every  instructer.  It  is 
sometimes  astonishing  and  painful  to  see  how  little  regard 
is  paid  to  general  rules,  even  by  men  of  education  and  of 
piety.  1  do  not  now  allude  to  such  crimes  as  breach  of 
promise,  lying,  or  theft ;  but  to  various  things  in  the  con- 
duct, which  are  not  capable  of  being  classed  under  gen- 
eral terms,  but  which,  if  done  by  all  in  similar  circum- 
stances, would  be  improper  and  hurtful.  Surely,  there 
must  be  something  defective  in  the  education,  or  some- 
thing faulty  in  the  habits,  of  that  man,  who,  being  pious, 
can  either  inconsiderately  or  deliberately  do  things  of  this 
kind. — That  such  things  are  done,  and  done  by  such  men, 
affords  one  proof  among  others,  that  those  "  moral  sen- 
timents" (as  they  are  called)  which  arise  from  early  ed- 
ucation and  from  associations  of  ideas,  and  which  operate 
without  any  consideration  of  utility,  are  not  sufficient  for 
the  regulation  of  human  conduct ;  and  that  there  is  need 
of  the  science  of  ethics,  to  teach  and  inculcate  more  en- 
lightened and  more  perfect  rules  of  duty.  I  am,  indeed, 
of  opinion,  that  those  "  moral  sentiments"  are  themselves 
useful  general  rules,  originally  derived  from  experience 
and  from  a  coasideration  of  consequences  ;  now  impres- 


V  Ibid.  ChaD«  vlii. 


86  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 


I 


sed  on  the  minds  of  children  without  their  heing  taught 
the  reasons  on  which  they  were  founded  ;  and  thus  trans- 
mitted, like  a  sort  of  blind  moral  instincts,  from  genera- 
tion to  generation.  1  have,  therefore,  no  fault  to  find 
with  them.  They  are  most  of  them  good  as  far  as  they 
go.  But  some  of  them  are  defective ;  and  ail  of  them 
may  be  strengthened  by  explaining  the  reasons  on  which 
they  are  founded. 

Such  are  the  utility  and  necessity  of  general  rules, 
that  the  Supreme  Being  has  thought  proper  to  give  to 
some  of  the  most  important  of  them  the  sanction  of  his 
authority.  Hence  we  may  ascertain  what  actions  have  a 
useful  tendency, 

2.  By  the  commands  of  God,  as  contained  in  the  scriptures. 

"  This  rule,  however,  proceeds  upon  the  presumption 
that  God  wishes  the  happiness  of  his  creatures.'^'"^  It  may 
be  proper,  therefore,  briefly  to  state  the  reasons  upon 
which  this  presumption  rests. 

There  is  more  happiness  than  misery  in  the  world.  Some 
may  be  inclined  to  dispute  this  position.  But  let  almost  any 
man,  who  thinks  himself  as  unhappy  as  mankind  in  gen- 
eral, number  his  pleasant  and  his  painful  sensations  for  a 
few  days  or  hours ;  or  let  him  count  the  hours,  which, 
while  they  are  passing,  he  thinks  better,  and  also  those 
which  he  thinks  worse,  than  non-existence  ;  and  then  see 
whether  the  result  is  in  favor  of  existence  or  of  annihi- 
lation. Then  let  him  look  at  the  world  around  him,  and 
judge  whether  the  scale  of  happiness  or  of  misery  pre- 
ponderates. "  Throughout  the  whole  of  life,"  says  Dr. 
Paley  in  an  interesting  chapter  on  "  The  Goodness  of  the 
Deity"  in  his  "  Natural  Theology," — "  Throughout  the 
whole  of  life,  as  it  is  diffused  in  nature,  and  as  far  as  we 

»  Paley. 


RULE    OF    DUTY.  ^         87 

arc  acquainted  with  it,  looking  to  the  average  of  sensa- 
tions, the  plurality  and  the  preponderancy  is  in  favor  of 
happiness  by  a  vast  excess.  In  our  own  species,  in  which 
perhaps  the  assertion  may  be  more  questionable  than  in 
any  other,  the  prepollency  of  good  over  evil,  of  health, 
for  example,  and  ease,  over  pain  and  distress,  is  evinced 
by  the  very  notice  which  calamities  excite.  What  inqui- 
ries does  the  sickness  of  our  friends  produce  !  What  con- 
versation their  misfortunes  !  This  shows  that  the  com- 
mon course  of  things  is  in  favor  of  happiness  ;  that  happi- 
ness is  the  rule,  misery  the  exception.  Were  the  order 
reversed,  our  attention  would  be  called  to  examples  of 
health  and  competency,  instead  of  disease  and  want." 

'•  When  God  created  the  human  species,  either  he  wish- 
ed their  happiness,  or  he  wished  their  misery,  or  he  was 
indifferent  and  unconcerned  about  both. 

If  he  had  wished  our  misery,  he  might  have  made  sure 
of  his  purpose,  by  forming  our  senses  to  be  so  many  sores 
and  pains  to  us,  as  they  are  now  instruments  of  gratifica- 
tion and  enjoyment ;  or  by  placing  us  amidst  objects  so 
ill  suited  to  our  perceptions,  as  to  have  continually  offend- 
ed us,  instead  of  ministering  to  our  refreshment  and  de- 
light. He  might  have  made,  for  example,  every  thing  we 
tasted  bitter  ;  every  thing  we  saw  loathsome  ;  every  thing 
we  touched  a  sting;  every  smell  a  stench;  and  every 
sound  a  discord. 

If  he  had  been  indifferent  about  our  happiness  or  mise- 
ry, we  must  impute  to  chance  both  the  capacity  of  our 
senses  to  receive  pleasure,  and  the  vSupply  of  external  ob- 
jects fitted  to  produce  it."*— But  what  is  "  chance  ?"  The 
only  proper  use  of  the  word,  is  to  denote  the  operation 
of  unknown  secondary  causes.  But  secondary  causes  pro- 
duce no  effects  which   were  not  designed  by  the  First 


*Pdley's  Moial  Philosophy;  IJook  II.  Chap.  5. 


H^  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

Cause.  Therefore,  if  God  had  been  indifferent  about  the 
happiness  or  misery  of  his  creatures,  if  he  had  exercised 
no  will  or  choice  on  the  subject,  neither  happiness  nor 
misery  would  ever  have  been  experienced  by  them.  It 
remains,  then,  that  all  the  happiness  which  creatures  en- 
joy, is  to  be  traced  to  the  divine  benevolence.  And  since 
there  is  so  much  more  happiness  than  misery,  so  much 
more  pleasure  than  pain,  in  the  world,  we  must  conclude, 
that  all  the  evils  which  do  exist,  are  designed  by  God  to 
be  subservient,  in  some  way  or  other,  to  the  greatest  pos- 
sible happiness  of  the  universe. 

'^  The  same  argument  may  be  proposed  in  different 
terms,  thus  :  Contrivance  proves  design  ;  and  the  predom- 
inant tendency  of  the  contrivance  indicates  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  designer.  The  world  abounds  with  contrivan- 
ces ;  and  all  the  contrivances  which  we  are  acquainted 
with,  are  directed  to  beneficial  purposes.  Evil,  no  doubt,  ' 
exists ;  but  is  never,  that  we  can  perceive,  the  object  of 
contrivance.  Teeth  are  contrived  to  eat,  not  to  ache ; 
their  aching  now  and  then  is  incidental  to  the  contriv- 
ance, perhaps  inseparable  from  it :  or  even,  if  you  will, 
let  it  be  called  a  defect  in  the  contrivance  ;  but  it  is  not 
the  object  of  it.  This  is  a  distinction  which  well  de- 
serves to  be  attended  to.  In  describing  implements  of 
husbandry,  you  would  hardly  say  of  the  sickle,  that  it  is 
made  to  cut  the  reaper's  fingers,  though,  from  the  con- 
struction of  the  instrument,  and  the  manner  of  using  it, 
this  mischief  often  happens.  But  if  you  had  occasion  to 
describe  instruments  of  torture  or  execution,  this  engine, 
you  would  say,  is  to  extend  the  sinews ;  this  to  dislocate 
the  joints ;  this  to  break  the  bones ;  this  to  scorch  the 
soles  of  the  feet.  Here  pain  and  misery  are  the  very 
objects  of  the  contrivance.  Now  nothing  of  this  sort  is 
to  be  found  in  the  works  of  nature.  "W  e  never  discover 
a  train   of  contrivance   to  bring  about  an   evil  purpose. 


fcULE    OF    DUTY.  89 

No  anatomist  ever  discovered  a  system  of  organization 
calculated  to  produce  pain  and  disease  ;  or,  in  explaining 
the  parts  ol  the  human  hody,  ever  said,  this  is  to  irritate ; 
this  to  inflame;  this  duct  is  to  convey  the  gravel  to  the 
kidneys;  this  gland  to  secrete  the  humor  which  forms 
the  gout :  if  by  chance  he  come  at  a  part  of  which  he 
knows  not  the  use,  the  most  he  can  say  is,  that  it  is  use- 
less ;  no  one  ever  suspects  that  it  is  put  there  to  incom- 
mode, to  annoy,  or  to  torment.  Since,  then,  God  has 
called  forth  his  consummate  wisdom  to  contrive  and  pro- 
vide for  our  happiness,  and  the  world  appears  to  have 
been  constituted  with  this  design  at  first,  so  long  as  this 
constitution  is  upheld  by  him,  we  must  in  reason  suppose^ 
the  same  design  to  continue.''* 

We  conclude,  therefore,  that  God  wishes  the  happiness 
of  his  creatures  ;  and  that  '  we  may  ascertain  what  ac- 
tions have  a  useful  tendency  by  his  commands,  as  contain- 
ed in  the  Holy  Scriptures.' 

Til  ere  appear  to  be  two  advantages^  chiefly,  in  having 
express  divine  commands  and  prohibitions  in  regard  to 
our  conduct.  The  first  is,  that  general  rules,  which  are 
of  vital  importance  to  mankind,  may  be  enjoined  by  an 
all-wise  Being,  in  an  absolute  and  unqualified  manner,  so 
that  individuals  may  have  every  doubt  removed  in  regard 
to  the  duty  of  an  invariable  adherence  to  them.  Admit- 
ting that  the  science  of  ethics  is  sufiicient  to  remove  eve- 
ry doubt  of  that  kind  ;  yet  few  men,  comparatively,  make 
a  study  of  this  science  ;  and  of  those  who  do,  many  are 
not  capable  of  taking  comprehensive  views  of  things, 
and  perceiving  the  force  of  the  arguments  by  which  the 
duty  of  an  invariable  adherence  to  general  rules  is  main- 
tained. Of  the  utility  of  those  things  which  God  re- 
quires, no  one  can  doubt;  and  it  is  of  incalculable  im- 
portance to  the  mass  of  the  community,  to  have  a  rule 

*Ibid. 


90  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 


I 


of  duty,  so  easily  understood  and  of  such  undisputed  au- 
thority. Besides,  it  is  doubted,  even  by  able  writers  on 
moral  philosophy,  '  whether  any  rule  of  morality  ought 
to  be  so  rigid  as  to  bend  to  no  exceptions.'  The  Bible, 
as  it  respects  some  rules  of  morality  at  least,  affords  a 
solution  of  this  doubt.  Suppose  that  an  individual  feels 
strongly  urged,  by  peculiar  circumstances,  to  commit 
theft.  It  appears  to  him  that  the  advantages  to  be  deriv- 
ed from  the  act,  are  greater  than  any  bad  consequences 
that  can  be  apprehended  to  follow.  He  is  sensible,  that 
in  most  cases,  theft  is  injurious  and  criminal ;  and  he  is 
aware,  perhaps,  that  many  wise  men  have  inculcated  the 
importance  of  general  rules,  and  the  dangerous  tendency 
of  violating  them  for  the  sake  of  any  particular  good  con- 
sequences. But  he  regards  human  wisdom  and  experi- 
ence as  incompetent  to  prescribe  universal  and  infallible 
laws.  He  remembers,  too,  that  able  writers  on  human 
duty  admit,  that  there  may  he  some  exceptions  to  every  geri' 
eral  rule ;  and  he  thinks  that  the  present  case  may  justly 
be  regarded  as  an  exception  to  the  rule  which  forbids  the 
taking  of  another's  property.  On  the  whole,  it  appears 
sufficiently  clear  to  him,  that  the  immediate  and  certain 
advantages  are  more  than  a  counterpoise  to  the  danger  of 
uncertain  and  remote  bad  consequences.  But  let  the 
command  of  an  omniscient  Being  now  reach  his  ears ; — 
and  the  scale  turns  at  once.  God  cannot  err.  He  sees 
the  end  from  the  beginning.  He  views  actions  and 
events  in  their  remotest  consequences ;  and  can  form  a 
just  estimate  of  all  the  consequences,  good  and  evil,  that 
can  flow  from  any  action.  And  He  has  said,  "  Thou  shall 
not  steaV^ 

Take  another  instance.  A  case  occurs,  in  which  a 
man  may  save  his  life  by  telling  a  lie.  He  sees  no  harm 
that  it  can  do  to  any  one  ;  so  that  the  evil  consequences 
that  attend  lying  in  general,  are  not  now  to  be  apprehend- 


RULE    or   DUTY.  91 

ed.  The  maxims  of  philosophers  are  inapplicable  to  the 
present  case.  The  path  of  duty  appears  so  plain,  that 
all  doubt  is  dispelled,  and  every  scruple  removed.  But 
the  Bible  meets  his  eye.  He  there  sees  that  God  enjoins 
veracity  and  condemns  falsehood  in  the  most  emphatical 
and  unqualified  manner  ;*  nor  does  he  find  any  proviso  or 
exception  in  all  the  sacred  code.  He  therefore  feels 
constrained  to  acquiesce  in  the  wisdom  and  authority  of 
God.  He  concludes,  that  if  it  is  for  the  general  good, 
that  his  life  should  be  rescued  from  the  impending  dan- 
ger, God  will  provide  some  other  way  to  effect  it ;  and 
that,  if  no  such  provision  is  made,  it  is  only  because  the 
general  good  requires  that  his  life  should  now  be  taken 
away. 

Here,  then,  we  leave  the  subject.  The  commands  and 
prohibitions  of  God  are  an  infallible  criterion  of  utility  in 
human  conduct ;  and  we  may  be  sure,  that  those  things 
which  he  requires,  have,  on  the  whole,  a  beneficial  ten- 
dency, even  though  some  of  them  may  appear  otherwise 
to  our  finite  understanding,  and  though  we  may  sometimes 
be  strongly  inclined  to  make  exceptions  to  his  laws. 

But  there  is  a  second  advantage  in  having  express  di- 
vine commands  and  prohibitions  in  regard  to  our  conduct. 
God  is  not  only  all-wise,  but  he  is  also  almighty  ;  and  he 
has  annexed  the  most  awful  penalty  to  the  transgression 
of  his  law.  The  fear  of  future  punishment,  and  the 
dread  of  the  just  displeasure  of  God,  have  a  powerful  in- 
fluence to  deter  men  from  the  commission  of  crimes,  and 
to  bind  them  to  the  performance  of  those  external  actions 
which  promote  the  welfare  of  society.  If  all  apprehen- 
sion of  a  judgment  to  come  were  removed,  how  little  in- 
fluence, with  most  men,  would  a  mere  knowledge  of 
right  and  wrong  have,  to  keep  them  in  the  path  of  recti- 

*  See  Lev.  xix.  11 ;  Ps.  Iviii.  3,  cxix,  163;  Isa.  Ixiii.  8  ;   Job.  viii.  44i 
90  ;  Acts  V.  1 — 11. 


92  PRACTICAL    ETHICS, 

tude,  when,  even  now,  the  most  atrocious  crimes  are  fre- 
quently committed  by  those  who  have  not  cast  off  a  spec- 
ulative belief  in  the  retributions  of  eternity. 

We  will  dismiss  the  subject  of  the  present  chapter 
with  a  few  general  remarks. 

1.  No  exception  whatever  ought  to  be  made,  even  to 
general  rules  of  human  origin,  unless  the  exception  be  of 
such  a  nature,  as  to  admit  of  a  previous  description,  and 
to  leave  no  doubt  that  the  evil  consequences  of  adhering 
to  the  general  rule  in  cases  of  that  kind,  would  be  great- 
er, than  those  of  violating  it.  Such  exceptions,  being 
established  by  public  consent,  are  free  from  the  objec- 
tions which  lie  against  those  that  are  made  by  individuals 
at  a  moment  when  both  the  will  and  the  judgment  are  pe- 
culiarly liable  to  be  biassed. 

I  have  already,  when  speaking  of  the  importance  of 
an  invariable  adherence  to  general  rules,  observed,  that 
some  able  writers  on  morality  admit  that  there  may  he  ex- 
ceptions to  every  such  rule.  The  following  is  the  lan- 
guage of  Dr.  Paley  on  this  subject :  "  Moral  Philosophy 
cannot  pronounce  that  any  rule  of  morality  is  so  rigid  as 
to  bend  to  no  exceptions ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  can  she 
comprise  these  exceptions  within  any  previous  description. 
She  confesses  that  the  obligation  of  every  law  dep^ds 
upon  its  ultimate  utility  ;  that,  this  utility  having  a  finite 
and  determinate  value,  situations  may  be  feigned,  and 
consequently  may  possibly  arise,  in  which  the  general 
tendency  is  outweighed  by  the  enormity  of  the  particu- 
lar mischief"* — The  ^''general  tendency^'^  of  this  reason- 
ing, is,  totally  to  abolish  all  general  rules  whatever.  It  is 
directly  repugnant  to  the  reasoning  of  the  same  author 
when  speaking  of  the  necessity  of  general  rules  in  hu- 

*  Moi-.  and  Polit.  Philos.  Book  VI.  Chap.  12. 


RULE    OF    DUTr.  &3 

man  government.*  The  reasoning  there  used  may  be  re- 
torted in  all  its  force  :  "  You  cannot  permit  one"  excep- 
tion to  a  general  rule  "  and  forbid  another,  without  show- 
ing a  difference  between  them,"  and  that,  he  acknowledg- 
es, cannot  be  done,  "  Consequently,"  such  exceptions 
•'  must  be  generally  permitted  or  generally  forbidden. 
Since,  therefore,  the  general  permission  of  them  would  be 
pernicious,  it  becomes  necessary  to  lay  down  and  support 
the  rule  which  generally  forbids  them."  It  appears  to  me 
that  there  is  no  general  rule  more  important,  than  that 
which  forbids  the  making  of  exceptions  to  general  rules. 
If  exceptions  may  be  made,  which  cannot  be  comprised 
in  any  previous  description,  it  must  be  left  for  individuals 
to  judge,  at  the  moment  of  acting,  of  the  comparative 
magnitude  of  the  particular  and  the  general  consequences. 
Now,  the  general  consequence,  although  it  may  have  a 
"  finite,"  that  is,  not  an  infinite,  "  value,"  is  almost  cer- 
tain to  be  wnd!ervalued.  While  the  particular  consequence 
is  near  at  hand  and  may  be  estimated  with  tolerable  ac- 
curacy, the  general  consequence  is  remote,  indefinite, 
unknown,  and  totally  incapable  of  being  estimated.  Or 
rather,  while  the  particular  consequence,  from  its  near- 
ness, and  its  affecting,  as  it  commonly  does,  the  private 
interest  of  the  individual,  is  almost  certain  to  appear  of 
greater  importance  than  it  really  is,  the  general  conse- 
quences, from  their  distance,  and  their  affecting  only  the 
interest  of  others,  are  equally  certain  to  appear  of  much 
less  importance  than  they  really  are.  In  such  circum- 
stances, to  leave  individuals  at  liberty  to  violate  a  gene- 
ral rule,  whenever  the  particular  consequence  shall  ap- 
pear to  them  to  exceed  the  general,  is  to  give  up  the 
obligation  of  general  rules  altogether.  Nor  ought  wri- 
ters on  morality  to  use  language  like  that  quoted  abovCj 

*  See  p.  83. 


94  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

unless  thejs^  expect  "  situations"  to  "  arise,"  in  which 
'•  the  enormity  of  the  particular  mischief"  shall  be  suffi- 
cient to  outweigh  the  ulilitj',  not  only  of  the  particular 
law  in  question,  but  of  all  general  rules  whatever. 

2.  The  doctrine  we  have  maintained,  does  not  leave 
individuals  at  liberty  to  judge  of  the  utility  of  particular 
actions  by  .their  own  unassisted  calculations.  This  has 
been  made  sufficiently  evident.  But  there  is  a  difficulty 
attending  the  subject,  which  it  may  be  well  to  consider  a 
moment.  I  have  said  that  the  dictates  of  conscience  re- 
quire us  to  consult  the  general  good ;  and  yet  have  ob- 
jected to  the  violation  of  general  rules,  even  when  the 
individual  really  thinks  that  such  a  violation  will  be  for 
the  general  good.  How  is  this  to  be  reconciled  ? — I  ob- 
ject to  such  a  violation,  not  as  wrong  in  the  individ- 
ual, but  as  hurtful  in  its  tendency.  A  man  ought,  indeed, 
always  to  do  what  he  sincerely  thinks  to  be  for  the  best ; 
but  it  is  to  be  lamented,  that  any  one  should  think  that  to 
be  for  the  best,  which  is  not  so.  I  am  solicitous,  not  to 
make  any  one  act  in  opposition  to  the  dictates  of  con- 
science, but  to  make  all  think  and  see  that  it  is  for  the 
best  invariably  to  adhere  to  general  rules ; — so  that  such 
an  adherence  shall  meet  the  approbation,  and  a  departure 
from  it,  the  disapprobation,  of  every  man's  conscience. 
What  I  maintain  is,  that  no  person  can  think  it  useful 
ever  to  violate  a  general  rule,  except  through  ignorance, 
or  in  consequence  of  having  erroneous  ideas  on  the  sub- 
ject. It  is  to  remove  such  ignorance  and  to  correct  such 
errors,  that  I  have  been  led  to  protract  this  chapter  to 
its  present  length.  Does  any  one  say,  that  if  he  can  do 
what  he  ''  ought,"  and  thus  meet  the  divine  acceptance, 
it  makes  no  difference  whether  his  ideas  are  correct  or 
erroneous?  It  makes  a  difference,  however,  whether  a 
man  possesses  a  temper  of  mind  which  could  prompt 
such  a  remark,  or  whether  he  possesses  a  disposition  to 


RULE    OF    DUTY.  95 

inquire  after  truth  and  duty.  The  remark  evinces  a  to- 
tal disregard  of  the  public  welfare,  and  a  supreme  re- 
gard to  private  interest  and  personal  happiness.  The 
man  who  feels  no  solicitude  to  ascertain  the  tendency  of 
his  actions,  who  never  inquires  in  what  way  he  may  be 
most  useful  to  the  world,  may  be  assured  that  he  will 
never  meet  the  divine  acceptance,  until  he  acts  from  oth- 
er motives  than  those  by  which  he  has  been  hitherto 
governed. 

The  doctrine  that  has  been  taught  in  this  chapter,  does 
not  appear  to  be  exposed  to  the  objections  which  have 
justly  been  made  to  the  theory  of  utility  as  it  has  been 
maintained  by  those  writers  who  have  excluded,  either 
wholly  or  in  a  great  measure,  the  obligation  of  general 
rules  and  of  the  divine  commands.*  That  such  a  theory 
should  furnish  a  pretence  for  "  the  perpetration  of  enor- 
mities," is  easy  to  be  conceived.  Though  we  cannot  say, 
that  even  that  theory  gave  countenance  to  the  commission 
of  crimes,  since  it  inculcated  only  actions  of  a  useful  ten- 
dency, and  all  crimes  have  a  hurtful  tendency.  The 
fault  lay  either  in  the  head  or  the  heart  of  those  who 
adopted  the  theory  "  as  their  whole  code  of  morality." 
And  1  think  we  can  have  little  doubt  from  which  of  the 
two  sources  the  error  chiefly  proceeded.  It  is  evident 
that  those  who  "  have  availed  themselves  of  the  rule  of 
general  expediency  as  an  apology  for  their  deviations 
from  the  ordinary  maxims  of  right  and  wrong,"  were  not 
actuated  by  a  sincere  regard  for  the  public  welfare. 
"  This  utility,"  says  Madame  de  Stael,  ''  is  seldom  any 
thing  more  than  a  specious  pretext,  under  which  men 
disguise  their  selfish  designs."!     How  many  evils  have 


*See  Stewart's  Philosophy  of  the  Mind,  Vol.  II.  pp.  386-395,  and  note 
CCC.) 

fCettc  utilite  n'  est  presque  jamais  qu'  un  nom  pompeux  dont  on  re- 
vet son  interet  personnel.—  De  U  AUcmagnc^  Tome  III. p.  183. 


§6  PRACTICAL    ETHICS, 

proceeded  from  a  want  of  Jwdgmen^,  in  acting  by  that  rule, 
I  am  not  able  to  say.  I  trust,  however,  that  this  source 
of  error  has  been  sufficiently  guarded  against  in  the  theo- 
ry of  utility  and  the  rules  of  duty  which  have  been  ex- 
hibited in  the  present  chapter.  After  all,  I  am  aware, 
that  the  theory  is  still  liable  to  be  perverted  by  men  of 
a  depraved  disposition.  But  if  it  is  good  in  itself,  if  it 
is  "  useful  in  its  tendency ^'^'^  a  liability  to  perversion  is  not 
a  sufficient  reason  why  it  should  be  exploded.  The  best 
of  things  are  liable  to  be  perverted  to  the  worst  of  pur- 
poses. The  greatest  enormities  have  been  committed 
under  the  pretence  of  serving  God  and  promoting  reli- 
gion. That  the  theory  which  estimates  all  virtues  by 
the  usefulness  of  their  tendency,  is  correct^  no  one  can 
deny.  The  very  objections  that  are  made  against  it, 
amount  only  to  this,  that  it  is  hurtful,  that  is,  not  useful^ 
in  its  tendency  ; — thus  assuming  its  correctness  in  the  very 
act  of  condemning  it. 

The  theory  of  utility  is  not  alone  in  being  objected 
against  on  account  of  its  liability  to  perversion.  Some  of 
the  fundamental  doctrines  of  the  gospel  have  been  ob- 
jected against  on  the  same  ground.  But  this  objection,  so 
far  from  being  a  reason  for  suppressing  those  doctrines, 
only  shows  the  importance  of  exhibiting  them  the  more 
fully^  and  explaining  them  the  more  clearly^  so  that  they 
may  be  understood  by  all. 

There  is  one  way,  in  which  children  and  people  of 
small  capacity,  who  cannot  understand  the  nature  and  ob- 
ligation of  general  rules,  and  indeed  any  person  who  hap- 
pens to  get  an  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  theory  of  utili- 
ty, may  be  particularly  liable  to  err.  A  person  who  has 
been  accustom.ed  to  believe  that  there  is  something  wrong 
in  certain  actions,  falsehood  and  theft  for  instance,  without 
knowing  what  that  something  is,  attaches,  of  course, 
the  ide*  of  criminality  to  these  actions  in  ail  cases  what- 


RULE    OF    DUTY.  97 

r^oever,  aud  supposes  the  commission  of  them  to  be  al- 
ways offensive  to  God.  The  effect  is  the  same,  if  he  has 
received  an  impression  that  falsehood  and  theft  are  wrong 
in  their  own  nature,  so  that  no  reason  why  they  are  wrong 
can  be  assigned.  But  if  he  is  taught,  or  hears  it  said, 
that  lying  and  stealing  are  to  be  avoided  solely  on  ac- 
count of  their  evil  consequences,  and  that  this  is  the  only 
reason  why  they  are  forbidden  hy  God,  he  is  liable,  ic 
certain  cases,  where  he  can  see  no  danger  of  any  harm's 
arising,  to  conclude  that  he  may  lie  or  steal  without  any 
crime,  and  without  incurring  the  divine  displeasure.  Let 
such  a  one  be  informed,  that  there  is  danger  of  evil  con- 
sequences which  he  cannot  foresee ;  that  the  public  good 
requires  that  falsehood  and  theft  should  be  absolutely  and 
totally  prohibited ;  that  God,  knowing  this,  has  not  left 
men  at  liberty  to  determine  whether  it  may  not  sometimes 
be  useful  to  violate  bis  laws ;  and  that  the  taking  upon 
ourselves  to  do  this,  is  highly  presumptuous,  and  strongly 
indicative  of  a  state  of  mind  which  is  sure  to  meet  the 
divine  disapprobation.  He  that  cannot  feel  the  force  of 
these  considerations,  ought  not  to  study  moral  philosophy, 
or  hear  of  the  theory  of  utility.  But  as  it  respects  the 
general  tendency  of  this  theory,  if  the  best  interests  of 
the  public  cannot  be  promoted  by  imposing  a  restraint 
upon  the  selfish  principles  of  our  nature,  and  acting  from 
enlarged  views  and  benevolent  motives,  we  must  despair 
of  seeing  them  promoted  by  human  instrumentality. — 
This,  however,  brings  me  to  observe, 

3.  That  the  doctrine  of  public  expediency  does  not  re- 
quire individuals  to  neglect  their  own  interest  or  that  of 
their  friends.  Although  "  it  is  reasonable  and  right,  that 
the  private  affections  should,  upon  all  occasions,  yield  to 
the  more  comprehensive,"  whenever  and  as  far  as  they 
come  in  competition  ;  yet  it  is  usually  in  a  very  small  de- 
gree, that  they  do  come  in  competition.     Although  we 


S8  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

ought  always  to  be  ready  and  willing  to  sacrifice  our 
own  interest  or  that  of  our  friends,  whenever  and  as  far 
as  it  may  be  necessary  for  the  promotion  of  the  public 
good  ;  yet  it  is  usually  in  a  very  small  degree,  that  duty 
r*)quires  any  one  to  make  this  sacrifice.  A  few  are  called 
to  part  with  property  and  friends,  and  to  endure  priva- 
tions and  sufferings,  for  the  sake  of  promoting  the  cause 
of  human  happiness.  All  are  called  to  contribute  a  por- 
tion of  their  property  for  public  and  benevolent  objects. 
But  with  these  exceptions,  a  little  reflection  is  sufficient 
to  convince  a  person  of  common  understanding,  that  the 
public  welfare  will  be  best  secured,  when  every  man 
discharges  faithfully  the  duties  of  his  particular  station, 
and  does  all  the  good  he  can  within  his  proper  sphere. 
If  all  were  wholly  to  neglect  their  own  welfare,  in  order 
to  seek  that  of  their  neighbors  or  of  the  public,  nothing 
would  be  attended  to  as  it  ought,  and  nobody''s  welfare 
would  be  promoted.  A  regard  to  the  general  happiness,, 
therefore,  will  lead  every  one  to  promote  his  own  happi- 
ness and  that  of  all  around  him,  as  the  largest  contribu- 
tion he  can  make  to  the  general  stock.  More  than  this, 
universal  benevolence  involves  good  will  to  individuals 
proportioned  to  our  knowledge  of  their  character,  wants, 
and  circumstances ;  so  that  we  need  not  be  afraid  of  set- 
ting too  high  a  value  upon  our  own  happiness  or  that  of 
our  friends,  provided  we  do  not  neglect  our  duties  to  the 
public,  and  are  willing  to  give  up  our  private  interest 
whenever  it  interferes  with  that  of  the  public.  We  ought, 
in  forming  our  habits,  and  in  fixing  upon  our  course  of 
life,  to  consider,  chiefly,  in  what  way  we  may  be  most 
useful  to  the  world ;  and  we  ought  also,  occasionally,  to 
consider  whether  our  daily  habits  and  the  course  we  are 
pursuing,  render  us  useful  in  the  highest  degree  of  which 
we  are  capable ;  but  after  having  settled  these  points, 
there  is  no  need  of  thinking  of  the  public  good  and  dc- 


RULE    OF    DUTY.  99 

liberating  about  it,  at  everj  step  we  take  and  every  act 
we  perform.  Our  "  affections  and  actions,"  ti^erefore, 
never  need  be  "  dissipated  and  lost,  for  want  of  a  proper 
limited  object,"  though  we  maintain  a  state  of  feeling 
which  will  prevent  us  from  interfering  with  the  interest 
of  others,  and  prompt  us  to  embrace  opportunities  for 
promoting  the  happiness  of  others;  and  though  we  are 
ready,  at  any  time,  if  called  to  it,  to  relinquish  schemes 
of  private  advantage,  to  act  in  a  larger  sphere,  and  to 
give  our  beneficence  a  wider  range. 

Some  writers  express  many  apprehensions,  lest  the 
extending  of  our  benevolence  to  distant  objects,  should 
render  us  indifferent  to  those  which  are  at  home  ;  and 
lest  an  attempt  to  regard  all  objects  according  to  their 
comparative  excellence  and  importance,  should  lead  us 
gradually  to  look  with  coldness  on  all.  If  benevolence 
were  of  such  a  kind  as  to  be  exhausted  by  being  exercis- 
ed, then  it  would  be  well  to  be  frugal  of  the  treasure, 
and  to  expend  it  only  on  a  few  objects  which  we  have  the 
greatest  opportunity  directly  to  benefit  by  our  efforts.  If 
I  have  but  one  or  two  looks  of  kindness  to  spare  in  a  day, 
it  may  oe  well  to  bestow  them  on  my  wife  and  my  child 
in  the  morning,  rather  than  "  reserve^''  them  for  a  stranger, 
however  worthy,  who  may  happen  to  call  on  me  in  the 
afternoon.  But  it  is  found,  in  fact,  that  the  exercise  of 
kind  affections  toward  one  object,  predisposes  us  to  the 
exercise  of  them  toward  another;  and  that,  the  more  the 
heart  is  enlarged  to  feel  the  importance  of  the  greatest 
objects,  and  the  excellence  of  the  noblest  and  the  best, 
the  more  spontaneously  do  the  affections  flow  forth  to- 
ward every  proper  object  that  is  presented.  No,  it  is 
selfishness  of  heart  and  narrowness  of  mind,  not  disinter- 
ested benevolence  and  enlarged  views,  that  dry  up  the 
channels  of  kindness,  and  cause  the  eye  to  look  with  cold- 
ness on  every  one  except  those  from  whom  favors  have 
been  received  or  from  whom  they  are  hoped. 


(  100  ) 

CHAPTER  ZI. 

Sources  of  Human  Happiness. 

The  tendency  of  every  virtue,  and  the  grand  object  of 
the  virtuous  man,  being,  to  promote  human  happiness, 
we  proceed  to  inquire,  what  are  the  sources  from  which 
human  happiness  springs.  This  inquiry  is  necessary  in 
order  to  enable  us  to  promote,  in  a  higher  degree,  our 
own  happiness  and  that  of  our  fellow  men  ; — in  other 
words,  in  order  to  give  us  a  better  knowledge  of  the  du- 
ties which  we  owe  to  orurselves  and  to  others.  We  may, 
indeed,  as  has  been  already  remarked,  learn  what  things 
are  conducive  to  happiness,  by  human  experience  and 
observation,  and  by  the  divine  commands.  But  it  may 
be  well  to  consider  the  sources  of  happiness  a  little  more 
particularly,  lest  w6  should  err  in  our  estimate  of  their 
comparative  value,  and  lest  some  of  them  should  be  en- 
tirely overlooked.  In  enumerating  some  of  the  various 
iources  of  human  happiness,  we  may  name, 

1.    The  moderate  gratification  of  the  senses. 

The  pleasures  arising  from  this  source,  may  be  divid- 
ed into  two  classes ;  such  as  are  merely  animal,  and  such 
as  are  more  refined.  It  is  in  regard  to  the  former,  chief- 
ly, that  there  is  need  of  restraint  ;  and  in  these,  exces- 
sive indulgence  defeats  its  own  end,  as  well  as  violates 
the  rules  of  virtue.  Dr.  Paley  remarks,  that  "  these 
pleasures  continue  but  a  little  while  at  a  time  ;  that  they 
lose  their  relish  by  repetition  ;  and  that  an  eagerness  tor 
them  takes  away  the  relish  from  all  others.  As  far  as  I 
have  been  able,'**  continues  he,  "  to  observe  that  part  of 
mankind,  whose  professed  pursuit  is  pleasure,  and  who 
are  withheld  in  the  pursuit  by  no  restraints  of  fortune,  or 
scruples  of  conscience,  I  have  commonly  remarked,  in 
them,  a  restless  and  inextinguishable  passion  for  variety ; 


SOURCES    OF    HUMAN    HAPPINESS.  101 

a  great  part  of  their  time  to  be  vacant,  and  so  much  of  it 
irksome  ;  and  that,  with  whatever  eagerness  and  ex- 
pectation they  set  out,  they  become,  by  degrees,  fastidi- 
ous in  their  choice  of  pleasure,  languid  in  the  enjoyment, 
yet  miserable  under  the  want  of  it."* 

In  regard  to  the  pleasures  of  the  senses  in  general,  Dr. 
Brown  has  the  following  remarks :  '^  The  pleasures  of 
the  senses  are  not  to  be  rejected  by  us  as  unworthy  of 
man.  In  themselves,  as  mere  pleasures^  they  are  good ; 
and  if  they  left  the  same  ardor  of  generous  enterprise,  or 
of  patient  self-command, — if  they  did  not  occupy  lime, 
which  should  have  been  employed  in  higher  offices, — 
and  if,  in  their  influence  on  the  future  capacity  of  mere 
enjoyment^  they  did  not  tend  to  lessen  or  prevent  happi- 
ness which  would  otherwise  have  been  enjoyed,  or  to  oc- 
casion pain  which  otherwise  would  not  have  arisen,  and 
which  is  equivalent,  or  more  than  equivalent  to  the  tem- 
porary happiness  afforded, — it  would,  in  these  circum- 
stances, I  will  admit,  be  impossible  for  man  to  be  too 
much  a  sensualist ;  since  pleasure,  which  in  itself  is  good, 
is  evil,  only  when  its  consequences  are  evil. 

He  who  has  lavished  on  us  so  many  means  of  delight, 
as  to  make  it  impossible  for  us,  in  the  ordinary  circum- 
stances of  life,  not  to  be  sensitively  happy  in  some  great- 
er or  less  degree,  has  not  made  nature  so  full  of  beauty 
that  we  should  not  admire  it.  He  has  not  poured  fra- 
grance and  music  around  us,  and  strewed  with  flowers 
the  very  turf  on  which  we  tread,  that  our  heart  may  not 
rejoice  as  we  move  along — that  we  may  walk  through 
this  world  of  loveliness  with  the  same  dull  eye  and  in- 
different soul,  with  which  we  should  have  traversed  un- 
varied scenes,  without  a  color,  or  an   odor,  or  a  song."* 

*  Paley's  Mor.  Philos.  Book  I.  Chap.  6. 
I  Brown's  Philosophy;  Lect.  99. 

1% 


102  1»RACTICAL     EtmCS* 

2.  Moderation  in  our  views  and  'wishes^  is  A  source  of 
happiness. 

While  extravagant  desires  and  expectations  only  pre- 
pare us  to  feel  more  sensibly  the  bitterness  of  disappoint- 
ment, the  opposite  state  of  mind  renders  disappointments 
a  small  evil,  and  thus  leaves  us  free  to  enjoy,  with  a  pro- 
per relish,  the  happiness  which  may  arise  from  various 
unexpected  sources. 

One  of  the  most  frequent  mistakes  in  regard  to  hap- 
piness, is  to  expect  to  find  it  in  greatness,  rank,  or  ele- 
vated station  ;  that  is,  in  gaining  a  superiority  over  those 
who  are  now  our  equals,  and  rising  to  eminence  and  dis- 
tinction in  the  world.  On  this  subject.  Dr.  Paley  has 
the  following  judicious  remarks  :  "  No  superiority  yields 
any  satisfaction,  save  that  which  we  possess  or  obtain  over 
those  with  whom  we  immediately  compare  ourselves. 
The  shepherd  perceives  no  pleasure  in  his  superiority 
over  his  dog,  nor  the  king  in  his  superiority  over  the 
shepherd.  Superiority,  where  there  is  no  competition, 
is  seldom  contemplated.  But  if  the  same  shepherd  can 
run  or  wrestle  better  than  the  peasants  of  his  village  ; 
and  if  the  king  possesses  a  more  extensive  territorj^,  a 
more  powerful  fleet  or  army,  than  any  prince  in  Europe, 
the  parties  feel  an  actual  satisfaction  in  their  superiority. 
The  conclusion  that  follows  from  hence  is,  that  the  pleas- 
ures of  ambition,  which  are  supposed  to  be  peculiar  to 
high  stations,  are  in  reality  common  to  all  conditions. 

But  whether  the  pursuits  of  ambition  be  ever  wise, 
whether  they  contribute  more  to  the  happiness  or  mise- 
ry of  the  pursuers,  is  a  diiferent  question ;  and  a  ques- 
tion concerning  which  we  may  be  allowed  to  entertain 
great  doubt.  The  pleasure  of  success  is  exquisite  ;  so 
also  is  the  anxiety  of  the  pursuit,  and  the  pain  of  dis- 
appointment ; — and  what  is  the  worst  part  of  the  ac- 
count, the  pleasure  is   short-lived.     We  soon  cease   to 


SOURCES    OF    HUMAN    HAPPINESS.  103 

look  back  upon  those  whom  we  have  left  behind ;  new 
contests  are  engaged  in,  new  prospects  unfold  them- 
•clves ;  a  succession  of  struggles  is  kept  up,  while  there 
is  a  rival  left  within  the  compass  of  our  views  and  pro- 
fession ;  and  when  here  is  none,  the  pleasure  with  the 
pursuit  is  at  an  end."* 

3.  Another  source  of  happiness  is  found  in  ''  the  exer- 
cise  of  our  faculties^  either  of  body  or  mind,  in  the  pur- 
Suit  of  some  engaging  end. 

Hence  those  pleasures  are  most  valuable,  which  are 
most  productive  of  activity  in  the  pursuit.  Employment 
is  every  thing.  The  more  significant,  however,  our  em- 
ployments are,  the  better ;  but  any  employment,  which 
is  innocent,  is  better  than  none."t 

The  pursuits  of  ambition  have  this,  indeed,  to  recom- 
mend them,  that  they  are  productive  of  incessant  activi- 
ty ;  but  this  advantage  is  outweighed  by  considerations  of 
an  opposite  kind,  if  it  were  alone  sufficient  to  recom- 
mend a  pursuit,  that  it  affords  scope  to  continual  and  per- 
severing activity,  the  pursuit  of  the  miser  might  claim  a 
distinguished  place  among  the  sources  of  human  happi- 
ness. In  order  that  a  pursuit  may  be  truly  promotive  of 
happiness,  it  must  be  such  as  can  be  engaged  in  without 
corrupting  the  heart  or  disturbing  the  tranquillity  of  the 
mind.  The  pursuit  of  knowledge,  enjoys  this  advantage 
in  a  high  degree.  But  to  form  and  execute  schemes  for 
rel^errng  the  miseries  and  augmenting  the  happiness  of 
mankind,  or  to  co-operate  in  schemes  of  benevolence 
formed  by  others,  not  only  gives  the  widest  scope  to  ac- 
tivity, but  at  the  same  time  opens  other  sources  of  pleas- 
ure, more  pure  and  exalted,  than  the  mere  exercise  of 
the  faculties  can  ever  afford.  The  christian  philanthro- 
pist is  engaged  in  a  pursuit,  in  which  the  most  animating 
objects  are  present  to  his  view,  in  which  he  has  a  sure 


*  Moral  Philosophy;  Book  I.  Chap.  6.  f  Ibid. 


104  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

prospect  of  success,  and  in  which  he  may  exert  all  his 
faculties  both  of  body  and  mind. 

It  is  a  common  mistake  to  imagine,  that  happiness  may 
be  found  in  "  an  exemption  from  labor,  care,  and  busi 
ness  ;  such  a  state  being  usually  attended,  not  with  ease, 
but  with  depression  of  spirits,  a  tastelessness  in  all  our 
ideas,  imaginary  anxieties,  and  the  whole  train  of  hypo- 
condriacal  aflfections.  For  which  reason,  the  expecta- 
tions of  those,  who  quit  the  world,  and  their  stations  in 
it,  for  solitude  and  repose,  are  seldom  answered  by  the 
effect."* 

4.  Happiness  depends  much  upon  the  habits  which  one 
foims,  and  upon  keeping  those  habits  under  due  control. 

Care  should  be  taken  to  guard  against  the  formation  of 
such  habits  as  do  not  allow  of  a  deviation,  without  bringing 
uneasiness  and  pain.  "  The  luxurious  receive  no  greater 
pleasure  from  their  dainties,  than  the  peasant  does  from 
his  bread  and  cheese  ;  but  the  peasant,  whenever  he 
goes  abroad,  finds  a  feast ;  whereas,  the  epicure  must  be 
well  entertained,  to  escape  disgust."  '  Those  who  spend 
every  day  in  amusement,  and  those  who  spend  every  day 
in  manual  labor,  find,  perhaps,  very  little  difference  in 
the  degree  of  satisfaction  which  they  derive,  immediate- 
ly, from  the  two  employments  ;  but  then,  whatever  sus- 
pends the  occupation  of  the  former,  distresses  them ;  but 
to  the  latter,  every  interruption  is  a  refreshment.'! 

There  should  also  be  such  a  variety  in  the  habits  which 
are  formed,  that  the  suspension  or  privation  of  one  occu- 
pation or  pleasure,  shall  not  leave  a  person  without  re- 
sources. For  this  purpose,  a  taste  for  reading,  and  a 
mind  furnished  with  materials  for  reflection,  are  well 
adapted  ;  as  books  are  always  at  hand,  and  as  no  earthly 
change  can  deprive  a  man  of  those  means  of  occupation 

*  Ibid.  I  Ibid. 


SOURCES    OF    Il-UMAN    HAPPINESS.  105 

and  those  sources  of  enjoyment,  which  he  has  within  him- 
self. To  such  a  man,  occasional  retirement  and  soli- 
tude bring  both  improvement  and  pleasure ;  while,  to 
him  who  has  not  these  resources,  and  ''  who  has  long 
been  accustomed  to  a  crowd,  or  continual  succession  of 
company,  retirement  and  solitude  come  clothed  with 
melancholy,'**  and  are  regarded  with  aversion  and  dread. 

Again,  the  habits  should  be  kept  under  due  control. 
The  habits  which  are  formed,  may  be  all  harmless  in 
themselves,  and  there  may  be  a  sufficient  variety  of 
them ;  yet  they  may  all  become  settled  and  fixed  in  a 
certain  system  or  order,  so  that  no  one  of  them  can  be 
moved  out  of  its  place  without  causing  uneasiness  and 
pain.  In  this  case,  many  habits  become,  as  it  were,  in- 
corporated into  owe, — like  the  different  members  and 
parts  of  an  organized  body.  For  instance,  a  person  may 
form  a  habit  of  retiring  and  rising,  of  eating,  reading^ 
and  walking,  at  certain  hours  ;  of  having  some  particu- 
lar kinds  of  food  at  certain  meals,  or  on  certain  days  of 
the  week;  of  sitting  in  a  certain  chair  and  in  a  certain 
part  of  the  room, — with  other  circumstances  too  trivial 
to  be  enumerated, — so  that  a  change  in  any  of  these  re- 
spects, shall  make  him  uneasy,  impatient,  and  unhappy. 
It  is,  indeed,  important,  that  we  should  make  a  distribu- 
tion of  our  time,  in  order  to  its  proper  improvement.  A 
systematic  arrangement  of  one's  business,  and  regular 
hours  of  eating,  sleeping,  exercise,  &c.,  are  desirable ; 
but  the  evil  to  be  guarded  against  is,  the  extending  of 
this  habit  to  many  trivial  circumstances,  and  becoming  so 
attached  to  all  our  habits,  that  we  cannot  patiently  bear 
the  least  modification  or  interruption  of  any  of  them, 
when  necessity,  or  some  superior  duty,  requires. 

5.  Among  the  sources  of  happiness,  health  may  well  be 
enumerated. 

*  Ibid. 


106  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

"  In  the  idea  of  health,*'  saj^s  Dr.  Paley,  "  I  would 
include,  not  only  freedom  from  bodily  distempers,  but  al- 
so that  alacrity  of  mind,  which  we  call  good  spirits ;  and 
which  may  properly  enough  be  included  in  our  notion  of 
health,  as  depending  commonly  upon  the  same  causes, 
and  yielding  to  the  same  management,  as  our  bodily  con- 
stitution. Health,  in  this  sense,  is  of  such  importance, 
that  no  pains,  expense,  self-denial,  or  restraint,  to  which 
we  subject  ourselves  for  the  sake  of  it,  is  too  much. 
Whether  it  require  us  to  relinquish  lucrative  situations, 
to  abstain  from  favorite  indulgencies,  to  control  intempe- 
rate passions,  or  undergo  tedious  regimens ;  whatever 
difficulties  it  lays  us  under,  a  man,  who"  acts  from  a 
sense  of  duty,  or  who  even  "  pursues  his  own  happiness 
rationally  and  resolutely,  will  be  content  to  submit."* 

6.  Another  source  of  happiness,  is  the  habit  of  looking 
at  things  on  the  bright  side. 

This  source  of  happiness,  being,  in  a  great  measure,  a 
mere  habit,  arising  from  the  state  of  the  health,  cheer- 
fulness of  mind,  occasional  efforts  of  the  will,  and  other 
causes,  might  have  been  introduced  under  the  two  pre- 
ceding heads.  The  importance  of  the  subject,  however, 
is  such  as  to  give  it  a   claim  to  a  separate  consideration. 

'•  How  few  events,"  says  Dr.  Brown,  '^  are  productive 
only  of  advantage  or  disadvantage  !  By  far  the  greater 
number  are  productive  of  both  ; — of  advantage,  which,  if 
it  existed  alone,  would  excite  gladness ;  of  disadvantage, 
which,  if  it  existed  alone,  would  excite  regret ;  and  of 
which,  as  existing  together,  the  resulting  emotion  is  dif- 
ferent, according  to  the  preponderance  of  the  opposing 
causes  of  regret  or  gladness, — that  is  to  say,  according  as 
more  or  fewer  images  of  regret  or  gladness  spontaneous- 
ly arise  to  our  mind,  or  according  as  we  examine  and 
analyze,  more  or  less  fully,  the  one  or  the  other  of  these 

*  Ibid. 


SOURCES    OF    HUMAN    HAPPINESS.  107 

sources  of  mingled  joy  and  , sorrow.  There  are  many 
advantages  of  what  is  apparently  evil,  that  cannot  be 
known  to  us,  unless  we  reflect  on  consequences  which  are 
not  immediately  apparent  ;  many  evils  of  what  is  appa- 
rently profitable,  that  may  be  discovered,  in  like  manner, 
but  discovered  only  after  reflection.  We  cannot  change 
events,  indeed,  in  many  instances  ;  but  in  all  of  these,  the 
aspect  of  events,  at  least,  may  be  changed,  as  our  atten- 
tion is  more  or  less  turned  to  the  consequences  that  may 
result  from  them.  To  wish,  is,  in  this  case,  almost  to 
produce  what  we  wish.  Our  very  desire  of  tracing  the 
consequences  that  are  favorable  to  our  happiness,  will  be 
followed  by  the  suggestion  of  these,  rather  than  of  oth- 
ers, in  the  same  manner  as  our  other  desires  are  always 
followed  by  the  suggestion  of  images  accordant  with 
them."* 

"  When  an  occurrence  may  be  productive  of  good  and 
evil,  the  good  may  arise  to  us,  because  our  general  frame 
of  mind  is  accordant  with  wishes,  and  therefore  with 
conceptions,  of  good ;  or  the  evil  only  may  arise  to  that 
gloomy  spirit,  which  does  not  find  good,  merely  because 
it  does  not  seek  to  find  it."t 

"  Even  when  the  same  event  is  thus  viewed  by  two  dif- 
ferent minds, — and  the  same  consequences,  in  every  oth- 
er respect,  arise  to  both  minds, — how  important  a  dift'er- 
ence  must  there  be,  in  the  general  resulting  emotion, 
according  as  the  two  minds  are  more  or  less  accustomed 
to  view  all  the  events  of  nature,  as  a  part  of  a  great 
design,  of  which  the  Author  is  the  benevolent  wilier  of 
happiness,  or  of  the  means  of  happiness  !  The  mere  dif- 
ference of  the  habit,  in  this  respect,  is  to  the  individuals 
almost  the  same  thing,  as  if  the  events  themselves  had 
been  in  their  own  absolute  nature  diversified. 

*  Browii*s  Philosophy,  Lect.  64.  f  Ibid. 


108  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

The  same  events,  tberefore,  in  external  circumstances 
exactly  the  same,  maybe  productive,  to  the  mind,  of  emo- 
tions that  are  very  different,  according  to  its  constitution- 
al diversities,  or  acquired  habits,  or  even  according  to 
slight  accidents  of  the  day  or  of  the  hour.  We  may  re- 
joice, when  others  would  grieve,  or  grieve,  when  others 
would  rejoice,  according  as  circumstances  arise  to  our  re- 
flection, different  from  those  which  would  occur  to  them. 
Nor  is  the  influence  necessarily  less  powerful  on  our 
views  of  the  future,  than  on  our  views  of  the  past.  We 
desire  often,  in  like  manner,  what  is  evil  for  us  upon  the 
whole,  by  thinking  of  some  attendant  good ;  as  we  fear 
what  is  good,  by  thinking  only  of  some  atttndant  evil."* 

"  It  is  not  on  the  nature  of  the  mere  event,  then,  that 
the  gladness  or  regret  which  it  excites  wholly  depends, 
but  in  part,  also,  on  the  habits  and  discernment  of  the 
mind  wliich  considers  it ;  and  we  are  thus,  in  a  great 
measure,  creators  of  our  own  happiness,— not  in  the  ac- 
tions merely  which  seem  more  strictly  to  depend  on  our 
wiil,  but  in  those  foreign  events  which  might  have  seem- 
ed at  first  to  be  absolutely  independent  ofus."t 

7.  Another  source  of  happiness,  is  found  in  *'  the  ex* 
ercise  of  the  social  affections. 

Those  persons  commonly  possess  good  spirits,"  says 
Dr,  Paley,  "  who  have  about  them  many  objects  of  affec- 
tion and  endearment,  as  wife,  children,  kindred,  friends. 
Of  the  same  nature  with  the  indulgence  of  our  domestic 
affections,  and  equally  refreshing  to  the  spirits,  is  the 
pleasure  which  results  from  acts  of  bounty  and  benefi- 
cence, exercised  either  in  giving  money,  or  in  imparting 
to  those  who  want  it  the  assistance  of  our  skill  and  pro- 
fession."J 


»  Ibid.  t  Ibid. 

:|:  Moral  Philos.  Book  I.  Chap.  6. 


MEANS  OP    PROMOTING    HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  109 

8.  Another  source  of  happiness,  is  found  in  the  exercise 
of  pious  affections. 

If  the  exercise  of  the  social  affections  is  a  source  of 
happiness,  much  more  is  the  exercise  of  those  affections 
which  characterize  the  children  of  God.  These,  when 
exercised  toward  friends  and  neighbors,  mingle  with  the 
^social  affections,  and  purify,  enhirge,  and  exalt  them. 
Christian  affections  have  the  advantage  of  those  that  are 
merely  social,  in  that  they  are  more  noble  in  their  na- 
ture, and  more  enlarged  in  their  object.  They  extend 
to  strangers  and  to  enemies,  as  well  as  to  ac(|uaintances 
and  friends.  The  highest  object  of  christian  regvird,  is 
the  Author  of  our  being.  A  pious  resignation  to  his  will, 
and  an  entire  confidence  in  the  nxtitude  of  his  govern- 
ment, are  a  never  failing  source  of  consolation  ;  and  a 
supreme  delight  in  his  character,  is  productive  of  the 
purest  and  most  exalted  haj>piness  which  a  creature  can 
enjoy.  It  is  not,  then,  too  much  to  say,  that  among  all  the 
sources  of  human  happiness,  the  greatest,  as  well  as  the 
most  lasting,  is  the  exercise  oi  pious  affections. 


CH.A.FTX:il  III. 

General  Means  oj  Promoting  Human  Happiness. 

I.  Example  and  Habit, 

The  powerful  influence  of  example,  arises  from  the 
imitative  nature  of  man.  In  the  education  of  children, 
parents  may  do  much  more,  by  the  example  they  set  be- 
fore them,  to  benefit  or  injure  them,  than  they  can  by 
the  best  or  the  worst  instructions  they  can  give  thera. 
And  in  regard  to  mankind  in  geoeral  around  us,  we  proba- 
bly benefit  or  injure  them  more  by  our  example,  than  in 
any  other  way.     The  importance  which  is  to  be  attached 


110  PRACTICAL   ETHICS, 

to  example,  will  be  apparent,  if  we  consider,  that  "  matt- 
kind  act  more  from  habit  than  reflection,"  and  that,  pro- 
bably, most  habits  have  their  origin  in  the  influence  of 
example. 

1.  "Mankind  act  more  from  habit  than  reflection. 

Man  is  a  bundle  of  habits.  There  is  not  a  quality  or 
function,  either  of  body  or  mind,  which  does  not  feel  the 
influence  of  this  great  law  of  animated  nature.  It  is  on 
few  only  and  great  occasions,  that  men  deliberate  at  all ; 
on  fewer  still,  that  they  institute  any  thing  like  a  regular 
inquiry  into  the  moral  rectitude  or  depravity  of  what  they 
are  about  to  do.  VVe  are  for  the  most  part  determined  at 
once,  and  by  an  impulse  which  is  the  efi*ect  of  pre-estab- 
lished habits.  And  this  constitution  seems  well  adapted 
to  the  exigencies  of  human  life,  and  to  the  imbecility  of 
our  moral  principle.  In  the  current  occasions  and  rapid 
opportunities  of  life,  there  is  often  little  leisure  for  re- 
flection ;  and  were  there  more,  a  man,  who  has  to  re^^son 
about  his  duty,  when  the  temptation  to  transgress  it  is 
upon  him,  is  almost  sure  to  reason  himself  into  an  er- 
ror."* 

Habits  are  imperceptible  in  their  beginning ;  and  are 
formed  in  so  very  gradual  a  manner,  that  they  frequently 
become  confirmed  before  the  individual  is  aware.  Some- 
times a  person  is  sensible  that  he  is  in  danger  of  forming 
a  bad  habit ;  but,  feeling  reluctant  to  relinquish  it  just 
yet,  he  thinks,  that  as  he  can,  by  a  little  resolution,  break 
it  off*  at  any  time,  he  will  indulge  in  it  a  little  longer. 
Fatal  mistake  !  Such  reasoning  is  a  proof,  that  the  habit 
has  already  become  confirmed,  and  that  his  case  is  very 
alarming.  The  only  way  to  be  secure  against  the  domin- 
ion of  bad  habits,  and  all  the  evil  consequences  to  which 
they  lead,  is  to  guard  against  the  first  approaches  of  them. 


♦Paley's  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  I.  Chap.  7. 


MEANS  OF  PROMOTING  HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  Ill 

oncl  to  break  off  from  them  with  determined  resolution, 
as  soon  as  their  influence  begins  to  be  felt  * 

2.  It  is  probable  that  most  habits  have  their  origin  in 
the  influence  of  example. 

The  power  and  extent  of  this  influence,  and  the  pro- 
pensity of  mankind  to  settle  down  in  any  habit  that  hap- 
pens to  have  been  commenced,  are  to  be  traced,  chiefly, 
to  that  principle  of  the  mind,  termed  the  association,  or 
suggestion,  of  ideas.  The  subject  is  very  happily  illus- 
trated by  Dr.  Brown  : 

"  What  we  have  seen  done  in  one  situation,"  he  ob 
serves,  ^'is  recalled  to  us  by  the  very  feeling  of  this  situ- 
ation, when  we  are  placed  in  it ;  and,  as  it  arises  to  us 
thus  more  readily,  and  is  sometimes,  perhaps,  the  only 
mode  of  conduct  which  arises  clearly  to  our  mind,  we 
proceed  on  it  without  further  reflection,  and  act  in  a  cer- 
tain manner,  because  others  have  acted  in  a  certain  man- 
ner, and  because  we  have  seen  them  act,  or  heard  of 
their  action.  It  is  evident,  that,  in  resolving  to  act  in  a 
certain  manner,  on  any  occasion,  we  must  have  had  a 
previous  conception  of  the  manner  in  which  the  action 
may  be  ^performed  ;  and  that  we  may,  therefore,  often 
prefer  one  mode  of  action,  from  the  advantages  which  it 
seems  to  present,  when  it  would  not  have  been  preferred 
in  competition  with  other  modes  of  action,  still  more  ad- 
vantageous, but  not  conceived  at  the  time.  The  wise, 
indeed,  on  this  very  account,  even  when  they  see  good 
that  may  flow  from  one  mode  of  conduct,  pause  to  consid- 
er various  possibilities,  and  appreciate  the  differences  of 
the  good  and  the  better ;  but  how  few  are  the  wise  ;  and 
how  much  more  numerous  they,  who,  when  any  immedi- 
ate good  presents  itself,  do  not  wait  to  consider  whether 
a  better  may  not  be  found.     The   first  conceptions  that 


*See  aa  interesting  chapter  on  '*  Custom  aqd  Habit"  in  Karnes's  "El- 
emeuts  of  Criticism." 


112  PRACTICAL    ETHICS, 

arise,  are  tbe  coDceptions  which  regulate  half  their  con- 
duct ;  and  these  first  conceptions,  when  the  circumstan- 
ces of  the  case  are  similar,  are,  by  the  natural  influence 
of  association,  the  conceptions  either  of  what  they  have 
themselves  done  before,  or  of  what  others  were  observed 
to  do,  in  those  similar  circumstances.  It  is  impossible  to 
will  any  particular  action,  without  having  previously  con- 
ceived that  particular  action  ;  and  the  various  consequen- 
<:es  of  various  modes  of  conduct,  have  seldom  entered 
into  the  contemplation  of  the  multitude.  They  see  what 
others  do ;  and  their  thought  has  scarcely  wandered  be- 
yond what  is  commonly  before  their  eyes,  or  what  is  the 
subject  of  common  discourse.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  sim- 
ilar circumstances  recur,  the  image  recurs  of  what  has 
been  thus  familiar  to  them ;  and  it  recurs  more  strongly 
and  vividly,  because  its  influence  is  not  lessened  by  that 
of  any  other  accompanying  image.  They  act,  therefore, 
as  others  have  acted,  not  so  much  from  a  feeling  of  re- 
spect for  general  sentiment,  as  from  mere  ignorance,  and 
the  absence  of  any  other  conception,  that  might  have 
given  a  different  momentary  impulse.  They  see  only 
one  path ;  and  they  move  on,  accordingly,  in  that  only 
path  which  their  dim  and  narrow  glance  is  capable  of 
perceiving."* 

I  will  close  this  subject  with  two  rules,  which  are  wor- 
thy of  attention  : 

1.  "  Many  things  are  to  be  done,  and  abstained  from, 
Aolely  for  the  sake  of  habit."!  An  act  which  has  a  ten- 
dency to  form  or  strengthen  a  good  habit,  ought  to  be 
done,  though,  from  that  particular  act,  no  other  benefit 
may  arise ;  and  an  act,  which  has  a  tendency  to  weaken  a 
good  habit,  or  to  form  or  strengthen  a  bad  one,  ought  to 
be  abstained  from,  though  no  other  harm  may  arise  from 
it.     It  is  to  be  remembered,  that  besides  all  the  other  ef- 


*  Brown's  Philosophy,  Lect.  35.  f  Palcj-. 


MBANS  OF  PROJtOTINS  ftUMAN  HAPPINESS.  113 


^^fects  of  our  habits,  these  very  liabits  are,  in  most  instan- 
iHKes,  continually  operating,  by  way  of  example,  to  gene- 
rate similar  habits  in  those  around  us. 

2.  ''Avoid  all  appearance  of  evil."     As  far  as  the  in- 
fluence of  example  is  concerned,  the   appearance  of  evil 
has  the  same  bad  tendency  with  evil  itself 
II.   Diffusion  oj  Knowledge  and  Virtue, 
*'  In   loving  all  human  kind,  and  wishing  their  happi- 
ness," says  Dr.  Brown,  "  it  is  impossible  that  the  benevo- 
lent should  not  love  also  the  diffusion  of  knowledge   and 
virtue   to  human  kind, — since  to  wish  permanent  happi- 
ness, without  these,  would  be  almost  to  wish  for  warmth 
without  heat,  or  colors  without  light."*     Of  the  tendency 
of  virtue   to  promote   happiness,  nothing  need   be  said. 
Of  the  tendency  of  knowledge  to  promote  happiness,  1 
will  say  a  few  words.     In  the  first  place,  the  general  dif- 
fusion of  knowledge  dries  up  or  diminishes  many  sources 
of  unhappiness.     The  evils   which  arise  from   that  nar- 
rowness of  mind,  that  illiberality,  and  those  numerous 
prejudices,  which  are  the   usual  attendants  of  ignorance, 
cannot  be   described,  and  can  be  conceived  only  by  those 
by  whom  they  have  been  witnessed.     These  prejudices, 
with  the  thousand  superstitious  notions  by  which  persons 
deprived  of  the  advantages  of  education  are  usually  char- 
acterized, often   render  them  exceedingly  uncomfortable 
both  to  themselves  and  to  others.     Perhaps  a  hiibit  of  slan- 
der may  be  traced  to  a  want  of  meiital  cultivation  more 
frequently  than   to  any  othr.r  cause.     On  the  contrary,  a 
cultivated  and   well  informed   mind  makes  a   man  more 
happy  in  himself,  and  more  agreeable  to  all  around  him. 
By  the  gen.'iral  diifusicn  of  knowledge;  in  a  community, 
the  social  affections,  on  which  so  much  of  ihe  happiness 
of  life  tiopends,  are  greatly  pr-jmoted. 


^  Brown's  Philosophy;  Lect.  86. 

k2 


114-  PRACTICAL    ETHICS* 

What,  then,  are  the  means  of  diffusing  knowledge  and 
virtue  ?  The  influence  of  example  in  the  diffusion  of  vir- 
tue, has  already  been  mentioned.  For  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge,  those,  who  possess  information,  may  do  much, 
by  rendering  their  daily  conversation  instructive  to  all 
with  whom  they  are  connected  or  with  whom  they  have 
intercourse.  Wliy  should  a  mane's  domestics  and  neigh- 
bors hear  so  many  idle  and  useless  words  from  his  lips, 
when  he  might  so  easily  saj'  things  which  would  inform, 
enlighten,  and  improve  them  ?  But  it  is  the  education  of 
children  and  youth,  that  affords  the  greatest  scope  for  the 
diffusion  of  knowledge  and  virtue.  No  one  has  a  more 
favorable  opportunity  to  make  those  around  him  wiser 
and  better,  than  the  parent  and  the  instructer.  How  im- 
portant, then,  that  parents  and  instructers  should  possess, 
themselves,  that  wisdom  and  virtue  which  are  necessarj' 
to  qualify  them  to  enlighten  and  form  the  minds  of  the 
young,  and  guide  their  inexperienced  steps.  As  the 
mother  has  usually  the  greatest  influence  in  forming  the 
habits  of  young  children,  and  the  best  opportunity  to  cul- 
tivate their  opening  faculties,  it  is  of  the  first  importance, 
that  she  should  be  qualified  for  this  office  by  possessing, 
herself,  an  enlightened  and  a  cultivated  mind,  and  by  be- 
ing skilled  in  the  science  of  education.  It  is  truly  to  be 
lamented,  that  this  subject  receives  so  little  attention, — 
that  females,  to  whom  it  is  so  import  mt,  are  nevertheless 
so  seldom  instructed  in  either  intellectual  or  moral  phi- 
losophy. And  almost  equally  lamentable  is  it,  that  in- 
structers of  schools  are  so  frequently  unqualified  tor  the 
interesting  duties  which  they  undertake  to  discharge. 
Under  the  care  of  many  instructers  in  common  schools, 
children  form  such  habits  of  study  and  reading,  and  receive 
such  impressions,  as  are  absolutely  worse  than  total  ig- 
norance. Much  better  is  it,  not  to  have  been  taught  at 
all,  than  to  have  been  taught  in  the  defective  and  injudi- 


liEANS  OF  PROMOTING  HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  115 

^ous  manner  frequently  practised.  If,  then,  parents  wish 
tie  improvement  of  their  children,  if  they  wish  their  mo- 
>ey  not  to  be  worse  than  thrown  awaj^,  let  them  look  well 
to  the  qualidcations  of  the  instructers  they  employ.  By 
raisins^  the  qualiiications  of  instructers  in  common  schools, 
and  giving  females  a  more  solid  education,  the  best  foun- 
dation is  laid  for  the  wisdom  and  virtue  of  the  rising 
generation,  and,  of  course,  for  the  permanent  welfare  of 
the  nation  to  which  we  belong. 

But  in  wishing  "  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  and  virtue 
to  human  kind,"  the  benevolent  man  looks  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  land  in  which  he  dwells.  He  remembers 
that  there  are  other  lands  which  are  trodden  by  human 
feet.  He  remembers  that  his  fellow  men  in  distant  re- 
gions of  the  globe,  need  the  same  knowledge  and  virtue 
to  make  them  happy,  which  are  essential  to  his  own  hap- 
piness. He  remembers  that  most  of  them  are  destitute 
of  these  means  of  happiness  to  a  degree,  of  which  it  i« 
difficult  to  form  a  conception  in  a  land  of  science  and  civ- 
ilization. And  he  rejoices  in  being  furnished  with  op- 
portunities to  do  something  to  instruct,  enlighten,  and 
bless  them.  These  opportunities  are  presented  to  every 
one  at  the  present  day,  when  so  many  plans  are  formed, 
so  many  efforts  made,  and  so  many  facilities  afforded,  for 
diffusing,  through  the  earth,  the  benefits  of  education  and 
the  light  of  the  Gospel. 

III.  Civil  Government^  Crimes  and  Punishments, 
Good  laws,  faithfully  executed,  are  highly  conducive 
to  human  happiness.  Laws  promote  the  peace  and  wel- 
fare of  society,  by  regulating  the  commercial  and  pecu- 
ftiary  intercourse  of  individuals,  but  chiefly  by  laying  a 
restraint  upon  vice  and  crime,  and  affording  a  security 
to  life,  liberty,  and  property.  '^  Civil  liberty,"  says 
Dr.  Paley,  '^  is  the  not  being  restrained  by  any  law,  but 
what  conduces  in  a  greater  degree  to  the  public  welfare  j 


116  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

by  vT/hich  it  is  intimated,  1.  That  restraint  itself  is  aii 
evil ;  2.  That  this  evil  ought  to  be  overbalanced  by  some 
public  advantage ;  3.  i'hat  the  proof  of  this  advantage 
lies  upon  the  legislature  ;  4.  That  the  law'^s  being  found 
to  produce  no  sensible  good  effects,  is  a  sufficient  reason 
for  repealing  it,  as  adverse  and  injurious  to  the  rights  of 
a  free  citizen,  without  demanding  specific  evidence  of 
its  bad  effects.  Hence  also  we  are  enabled  to  apprehend 
the  distinction  between  personal  and  civil  liberty.  A  citi- 
zen of  the  freest  republic  in  the  world,  may  be  imprison- 
ed for  his  crimes ;  and  though  his  personal  freedom  be 
restrained  by  bolts  and  fetters,  so  long  as  his  confinement 
is  the  effect  of  a  beneficial  public  law,  his  civil  liberty  is 
not  invaded."* 

"  The  proper  end  of  human  punishment  is  not  the  sat- 
isfaction of  justice,  but  the  prevention  of  crimes.  By 
the  satisfaction  of  justice,  1  mean  the  retribution  of  so 
much  pain  lor  so  much  guilt ;  which  is  the  dispensatioh 
we  expect  at  the  hand  of  God,  and  which  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  consider  as  the  order  of  things  that  perfect  jus- 
tice dictates  and  requires.!"  "  Crimes  are  not  by  any  go- 
vernment punished  in  proportion  to  their  guilt,  but  in 
proportion  to  the  difficulty  and  the  necessity  of  prevent- 
ing them.  Punishment  ought  not  to  be  employed,  much 
less  rendered  severe,  when  the  crime  can  be  prevented 
hy  any  other  means.  The  facility  with  which  any  spe- 
cies of  crimes  is  perpetrated,  has  been  generally  deemed 
a  reason  for  aggravating  the  punishment.  I'hvis,  sheep- 
stealing^  horse-stealing,  the  stealing  of  cloth  trom  tent- 
ers or  bleaching-grounds,  by  our  iaws,|  subjoct  ttie  of- 
fenders to  sentence  of  death  ;  not  that  thest  rrsmes  are 
m  their  nature  more  heinous  than  many  siniple  eionies 
which  are   punished   by  imprisonment  or  ti'an^^  >rtatioq, 


*Paley's  Moral  and  Political  Pl!ilosOpuy,Book   V";  Ciiap.  &. 
flbid.  Chap.  9.  |The  Lawsoi  Eng    wh 


MEANS    OP    PROMOTING    HUMAN    HAPPINESS.         IIT 

but  because  the  property,  being  more  exposed,  requires 
the  terror  of  capital  punishment  to  protect  it.  The  dif- 
ficulty of  discovery  is  a  circumstance  to  be  included  in 
the  same  consideration.  By  how  much,  therefore,  the 
detection  of  an  offender  is  more  rare  and  uncertain,  by 
so  much  the  more  severe  must  be  the  punishment  when 
he  is  detected. 

There  are  two  methods  of  administerinpf  penal  justice. 
The  first  method  assigns  capital  punishments  to  few  of- 
fences, and  inflicts  it  invariably.  The  second  method  as- 
signs capital  punishments  to  many  kinds  of  offences,  but 
inflicts  it  only  upon  a  few  examples  of  each  kind.  The 
latter  of  these  two  methods  has  been  long  adopted  in 
this  country,  where,  of  those  who  receive  sentence  of 
death,  scarcely  one  in  ten  is  executed.  If  judgment  of 
death  were  reserved  for  one  or  two  species  of  crimes 
only,  which  would  probably  be  the  case  if  thf*t  judgment 
was  intended  to  be  executed  without  exception,  crimes 
might  occur  of  the  most  dangerous  example,  and  accom- 
panied with  circumstances  of  heinous  aggravation,  which 
did  not  fall  witliin  any  description  of  offences  that  the 
laws  had  made  capital,  and  which  consequently  could  not 
receive  the  punishment  their  own  malignity  and  the  pub- 
lic safety  required.  What  is  worse,  it  would  be  known, 
beforehand,  that  such  crimes  might  be  committed  with- 
out danger  to  the  offender's  life.  On  the  other  hand,  if, 
to  reach  these  possible  cases,  the  whole  class  of  offences 
to  which  they  belong  be  subjected  to  pains  of  death,  and 
no  power  of  remitting  this  severity  remain  anywhere, 
the  execution  of  the  laws  will  become  more  sanguinary 
than  the  public  compassion  would  endure,  or  than  is  ne- 
cessary to  the  general  securit3^ 

The  prerogative  of  pardon  is  properly  reserved  to  the 
chief  magistrate.  The  power  of  suspending  the  laws  is 
a  privilege  of  too  high  a  nature  to  be  committed  to  many 
hands,  or  to  those  of  any  inferior  officer  in  the  state. 


1  18  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

Aggravations  which  ought  to  guide  the  magistrate  in 
the  selection  of  objects  of  condign  punishment,  are  prin- 
cipally these  three, — repetition,  cruelty,  combination. 
With  respect  to  the  last  circumstance,  it  may  be  observ- 
ed, that  when  thieves  and  robbers  are  once  collected  in- 
to gangs,  their  violence  becomes  more  formidable,  the 
confederates  more  desperate,  and  the  difficulty  of  defend- 
ing  the  public  against  their  depredations  much  greater, 
than  in  the  case  of  solitary  adventurers.  In  crimes,  how- 
ever, which  are  perpetrated  by  a  multitude,  or  by  a  gang, 
it  is  proper  to  separate,  in  the  punishment,  the  ring  lead- 
er from  his  followers,  the  principal  from  his  accomplices, 
and  even  the  person  who  struck  the  blow,  broke  the  lock, 
Or  first  entered  the  house,  from  those  who  joined  him  in 
the  felony;  not  so  much  on  account  of  any  distinction  in 
the  guilt  of  the  offenders,  as  for  the  sake  of  casting  an 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  such  confederacies  b^  rendering 
it  difficult  for  the  confederates  to  settle  who  shall  begin 
the  attack,  or  to  find  a  man  among  their  number  willing 
to  expose  himselt  to  greater  danger  than  his  associates. 

The  frequency  of  capital  executions  in  this  country, 
owes  its  necessity  to  three  causes  ; — much  liberty,  great 
cities,  and  the  want  of  a  punishment  short  of  death  pos- 
seii^sing  a  sufficient  degree  of  terror.  The  liberties  of  a 
free  people,  and  still  more  the  jealousy  with  which  these 
liberties  are  watched,  and  by  which  they  are  preserved, 
permit  not  those  precautions  and  restraints,  that  inspec- 
tion, scrutiny,  and  control,  which  are  exercised  with  suc- 
cess in  arbitrary  governments. — Great  cities  multiply 
crimes  by  presenting  easier  opportunities  and  more  in- 
centives to  libertinism,  which  in  low  life  is  commonly 
the  introductory  stage  to  other  enormities;  by  collecting 
thieves  and  robbers  into  the  same  neighborhood,  which 
enables  them  to  form  communications  and  confederacies, 
that  increase  their  art  and  courage,  as  well  as  strength 


MEANS    OF    PROMOTING    HUMAN    HAPPINESS.         119 

and  wickedness ;  but  principally  by  the  refuge  they  af- 
ford to  villany,  in  the  means  of  concealment,  and  of  sub- 
sisting in  secrrcy,  which  crowded  towns  supply  to  men  of 
every  description.  These  temptations  and  facilities  can 
only  be  counteracted  by  adding  to  the  number  of  capital 
punishments. — But  a  third  cause,  which  inereases  the  fre- 
quency of  capital  executions  in  England,  is  a  defect  of 
the  laws,  in  not  being  provided  with  any  other  |  unish- 
ment  than  that  of  death,  sufficiently  terrible  to  keep  of- 
fenders in  awe.  Transportation,  which  is  the  sentence 
second  in  the  order  of  severity,  appears  to  me  to  answer 
the  purpose  of  example  very  imperfectly  ;  not  only  be- 
cause exile  is  in  reality  a  slight  punishn  ent  to  those  who 
have  neither  property,  nor  friends,  nor  reputation,  nor  reg- 
ular means  of  subsistence  at  home,  and  because  their  sit- 
uation becomes  little  worse  by  their  crime,  than  it  was 
before  they  committed  it ;  but  because  the  punishment, 
whatever  it  be,  is  unobserved  and  unknown. 

The  end  of  punishment  is  two- fold, — amendment  and 
example.  In  the  first  of  these,  the  reformation  of  crimi- 
nals, little  has  ever  been  effected,  and  little,  I  tear,  is 
practicable.  From  every  species  of  punishment  that  has 
hitherto  been  devised,  from  imprisonment  and  exile,  from 
pain  and  infamy,  malefactors  return  more  hardened  in 
their  crimes,  and  more  instructed.  Of  the  reforming 
punishments  which  have  no*  yet  been  tried,  none  promi- 
ses so  much  success  as  that  of  solitary  imprisonment,  or 
the  confinement  of  criminals  in  separate  apartments. 
This  improvement  augments  the  terror  of  the  punish- 
ment ;  secludes  the  criminal  from  the  society  of  his  fel- 
low prisoners,  in  which  society  the  worse  are  sure  to  cor- 
rupt the  better  ;  and  is  calculated  to  raise  up  in  him  re- 
flections n  the  folly  of  his  choice,  and  to  dispose  his 
mind  to  such  bitter  and  continued  penitence,  as  may  pro- 
duce a  lasting  alteration  in  the  principles  of  his  conduct. 


120  PRACTICAL    ETHieS. 

As  aversion  to  labor  is  the  cause  from  which  half  of 
the  vices  of  low  life  deduce  their  origin  and  continuance, 
punishments  ought  to  he  contrived  with  a  view  to  the 
conquering  of  this  disposition.  Two  opposite  expedients 
have  been  recommended  for  this  purpose  ;  the  one,  soli- 
tary confinement,  with  hard  labor;  the  other,  solitary 
confinement,  with  nothing  to  do.  Both  expedients  seek 
the  same  end, — to  reconcile  the  idle  to  a  life  of  industry. 
The  former  hopes  to  effect  this  by  making  labor  habitu- 
al; the  latter,  by  making  idleness  insupportable:  and  the 
preference  of  one  method  to  the  other  depends  upon  the 
question,  whether  a  man  is  more  likely  to  betake  him- 
self, ot  his  own  accord,  to  work,  who  has  been  accustom- 
ed to  employment,  or  who  has  been  distressed  by  the 
want  of  it.  If  labor  be  exacted,  I  would  leave  the  whole, 
or  a  portion,  of  the  earnings  to  the  pr)soner''s  use,  and  I 
would  debar  him  from  any  other  j  revisit  n  or  supply  ;  that 
his  suhsistence,  however  coarse  or  penurious,  may  be 
proportioned  to  his  diligence,  and  that  he  may  taste  the 
advantage  of  industry  together  with  the  toil.  I  would  go 
further;  I  would  measure  the  confinement,  not  by  the 
duration  of  time,  but  by  quantity  of  work,  in  order  both 
to  excite  industry,  and  to  render  it  more  voluntary. 

Torture  is  applied  either  to  obtain  confessions  of  guilt, 
or  to  exasperate  or  prolong  the  pains  of  death.  I'he 
question  by  torture  ap}years  to  be  equivocal  in  its  effects; 
for,  since  extremity  of  pain,  and  not  any  feeling  of  re- 
tnorse  in  the  mind,  produces  those  effects,  an  innocent 
man  may  sink  under  the  torment,  as  well  as  he  who  is 
guilty.  The  almost  irresistible  desire  of  lelief  may 
draw  from  one  suiferar  false  accusations  of  himself  or 
others,  as  it  may  sometimes  extract  the  truth  out  of 
another.  This  ambiguity  renders  the  use  of  torture,  ai 
a  means  of  procuring  irformation  in  criminal  proceed- 
ings, liable  to  the  risk  of  grievous  and  irreparable  iujus- 


MEANS  OF  PROMOTING  HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  121 

tice ; — for  which  reason,  though  recommended  by  an- 
cient and  general  example,  it  has  been  properly  exploded 
from  the  mild  and  cautious  system  of  penal  jurisprudence 
established  in  this  country. 

Barbarous  spectacles  of  human  agony  are  justly  found 
fault  with,  as  tending  to  harden  and  deprave  the  public 
feelings,  and  to  destroy  that  sympathy  with  which  the 
sufferings  of  our  fellow  creatures  ought  always  be  seen  ; 
or,  if  no  effect  of  this  kind  follow  from  them,  they  coun- 
teract in  some  measure  their  own  design,  by  sinking 
men's  abhorrence  of  the  crime  in  their  commiseration 
of  the  criminal. 

The  certainty  of  punishment  is  of  more  consequence 
than  the  severity.  Criminals  do  not  so  much  flatter  them- 
selves with  the  lenity  of  the  sentence,  as  with  the  hope 
of  escaping. — There  are  two  popular  maxims,  which 
seem  to  have  a  considerable  influence  in  producing  inju- 
dicious acquittals.  One  is,  '  That  circumstantial  evidence 
falls  short  of  positive  proof  This  assertion,  in  the  un- 
qualified sense  in  which  it  is  applied,  is  not  true.  A 
concurrence  of  well-authenticated  circumstances  compo- 
ses a  stronger  ground  of  assurance,  than  positive  testimo- 
ny, unconfirmed  by  circumstances,  usually  affords.  Cir- 
cumstances cannot  lie.  The  conclusion  also  which  re- 
sults from  them,  though  deduced  by  only  probable  infe- 
rence, is  commonly  more  to  be  relied  upon,  than  the 
veracity  of  an  unsupported  solitary  witness. 

The  other  maxim  is  this,  '  That  it  is  better  that  ten 
guilty  persons  escape,  than  that  one  innocent  man  should 
suffer.'  If  by  saying  it  is  better^  be  meant  that  it  is  more 
for  the  public  advantage,  the  proposition,  1  think,  cannot 
be  maintained.  The  security  of  civil  life,  which  is  es- 
sential to  the  value  and  the  enjoyment  of  every  blessing 
it  contains,  and  the  interruption  of  which  is  followed  by 
Universal  misery  and  confusion,  is  protected  chiefly  by 


122  PRACTICAL   ETHICS. 

the  dread  of  punishment.  The  misfortune  of  an  individ- 
ual, (for  such  may  the  sufferings,  or  even  the  death,  of  an 
innocent  person  be  called,  when  they  are  occasioned  by 
BO  evil  intention,)  cannot  be  placed  in  competition  with 
this  object.  He  who  falls  by  a  mistaken  sentence,  may 
be  considered  as  falling  for  his  country ;  while  he  suffers 
under  the  operation  of  those  rules,  by  the  general  effect 
and  tendency  of  which  the  welfare  of  the  community  is 
maintained  and  upheld."* 

CHAPTER  IV. 

On  Promoting  the  Happiness  of  our  Inferiors, 

"  There  are  three  principal  methods  of  promoting  the 
happiness  of  our  inferiors : 

1.  By  the  treatment  of  our  domestics  and  dependents. 

2.  By  professional  assistance. 

3.  By  pecuniary  bounty."! 

I.  The  treatment  of  our  domestics  and  dependents. 

"  Whatever  uneasiness  we  occasion  to  our  domestics, 
which  neither  promotes  our  service,  nor  answers  the  just 
ends  of  punishment,  is  manifestly  wrong ;  were  it  only  on 
the  general  principle  of  diminishing  the  sum  of  human 
happiness. 

By  which  rule  we  are  forbidden, 

1.  To  enjoin  unnecessary  labor  or  confinement,  from 
the  mere  love  and  wantonness  of  domination ; 

2.  To  insult  our  servants  by  harsh,  scornful,  or  oppro- 
brious language ; 

3.  To  refuse  them  any  harmless  pleasure  : 


*  Paley's  Mor.  and  Polit.  Philos.  Book  VI.  Chap.  9. 
tPaley's  Moral  Philos.  Book  III.  Part  II.  Chap.  1. 


HAPPINESS  OF  OUR  INFERIORS.  123 

And,  by  the  same  principle,  are  also  forbidden  cause- 
less or  immoderate  anger,  habitual  peevishness,  and 
groundless  suspicions.'"* 

"  The  foregoing  prohibitions  extend  to  the  treatment 
of  SLAVES. — Slavery  may  be  defined,  '  an  obligation  to 
labor  for  the  benefit  of  the  master,  without  the  contract 
or  consent  of  the  servant.'  "t 

The  evils  of  slavery  are  so  obvious  and  so  well  known, 
as  hardly  to  need  description.  "  The  natives  of  Africa 
are  excited  to  war  and  mutual  depredation,  for  the  sake 
of  supplying  their  contracts,  or  furnishing  the  market  with 
slaves.  With  this  the  wickedness  begins.  The  slaves, 
torn  away  from  parents,  wives,  children,  from  their 
friends  and  companions,  their  fields  and  flocks,  their  home 
and  country,  are  transported  to  America,  with  no  other 
accommodation  on  shipboard  than  what  is  provided  for 
brutes.  This  is  the  second  stage  of  cruelty  ;  from  which 
the  miserable  exiles  are  delivered,  only  to  be  placed,  and 
that  for  life,  in  subjection  to  a  dominion  and  system  of 
laws,  the  most  merciless  and  tyrannical  thai  ever  were 
tolerated  upon  the  face  of  the  earth :  and  from  all  that 
can  be  learned  by  the  accounts  of  the  people  upon  the 
spot,  the  inordinate  authority  which  the  plantation  laws 
confer  upon  the  slave-holder,  is  exercised  with  rigor  and 
brutality. 

But  neces.nty  is  pretended  ;  the  name  under  which  eve- 
ry enormity  is  attempted  to  be  justified.  And,  after  all, 
what  is  the  necessity  ?  It  has  never  been  proved  that  the 
land  could  not  be  cultivated  by  hired  servants.  It  is  said 
thit  it  could  not  be  cultivated  with  quite  the  same  con- 
venience and  cheapness,  as  by  the  labor  of  slaves;  by 
which  means,  a  pound  ©f  sugar,  which  the   planter  now 


*  Ibid.  Chap.  %  f  Ibid.  Chap.  3, 


1^4^  PRACTICAL     ETHICS, 

sells  for  sixpence,  could  not  be  afforded  under  sixpence 
half-penny  ; — and  this  is  the  necessity  !"* 

That  the  blacks,  by  the  system  of  slavery,  suffer  more 
than  the  whites  gain,  is  a  proposit;ion  so  evident,  that  he 
who  disputes  it,  hardly  deserves  to  be  refuted, — unless 
it  were  by  being  chained,  and  subjected  to  the  lash  of  a 
task-master.  Therefore,  as  human  happiness  is  dimin- 
ished by  the  system  of  slavery,  it  is  unlawful  and  ought? 
to  be  abolished.  Dr.  Paley,  however,  proposes  no  defi- 
nite plan  for  this  purpose.  He  says,  "  The  emancipation 
of  slaves  should  be  gradual ;  and  be  carried  on  by  pro- 
visions of  law,  and  under  the  protection  of  civil  govern- 
ment." I  would  rather  say,  Let  all  the  slaves,  who  wish 
it,  be  at  once  delivered  from  the  hands  of  their  masters. 
Let  those  who  choose  to  remove  beyond  the  bounds  of 
the  United  States,  be  either  transported  to  Africa,  or  per- 
mitted to  go  elsewhere,  under  such  restrictions  as  the 
wisdom  of  the  national  legislature  may  impose.  And  of 
those  who  choose  to  stay,  let  all  under  a  certain  age  (say 
15)  be  put  into  schools  supported  at  the  public  expense, 
till  they  are  qualified  to  take  care  of  themselves  and  make 
good  members  of  society ;  and  let  all  above  that  age  be 
employed  in  as  profitable  a  manner  as  may  be,  under 
overseers  appointed  by  government,  who  shall  treat  them 
with  humanity  and  kindness.  These  may  do  enough 
to  support  themselves,  to  pay  the  expense  of  overseeing 
them,  and  perhaps  to  contribute  something  toward  the 
support  of  the  schools.  As  to  the  masters,  they  ought  to 
receive  a  reasonable  compensation  for  the  loss  of  property 
which  they  may  sustain  in  having  their  slaves  taken  from 
them.  Whatever  the  expense  of  all  this  might  be,  it 
ought  to  be  borne  by  the  nation.  Who  that  has  the  least 
spark  of  philanthropy  in  his  bosom,  would  be  reluctant  to 
pay  his  share  of  a  tax,  which  was  to  accomplish  so  hu- 

»  Ibid. 


kAPi'lKESS    OF    OUR    INFERIORS.  125 

mane  and  so  noble  an  object?  The  rights  of  injured  Af- 
rica have  long  enough  been  trampled  upon.  The  blood 
of  her  sable  sons  has  long  enough  called  for  vengeance 
on  the  heads  of  guilty  white  men.  It  is  time  that  these 
wrongs  were  redressed ;  and  some  expiation  made,  for 
the  tortures  that  have  been  inflicted,  and  the  blood  that 
has  been  shed.  The-plan  of  colonization^  which  has  been 
set  in  operation  bj  christian  enterprise,  and  which  is 
patronised  by  our  national  government,  is  a  good  thing 
as  far  as  it  goes ;  but  it  seems  to  be  too  slow  a  pro- 
cess, in  a  case,  where  the  evil  is  so  great,  and  the  call  of 
duty  so  loud.  The  least  that  our  government  ought  to 
do,  is  immediately  to  deliver  all  the  children  of  the  slaves 
from  the  yoke  of  bondage,  and  place  them  in  a  situation, 
where  they  may  become  qualified  to  hold  a  respectable 
rank,  as  men  and  as  citizens,  as  rational  and  immortal 
beings. 

"  II.  Professional  Assistance.  This  kind  of  beneficence 
is  chiefly  to  be  expected  from  members  of  the  legislature, 
magistrates,  medical,  l^gal,  and  sacerdotal  professions. 

The  care  of  the  poor  ought  to  be  the  principal  object 
of  all  laws ;  for  this  plain  reason,  that  the  rich  are  able 
to  take  care  of  themselves. 

Of  all  private  professions,  that  of  medicine  puts  it  in  a 
man's  power  to  do  the  most  good  at  the  least  expense. 
Health,  which  is  precious  to  all,  is  to  the  poor  invaluable  ; 
and  their  complaints,  as  agues,  rheumatisms,  &c.  are  often 
such  as  yield  to  medicine.  And,  with  respect  to  the  ex- 
pense, drugs  at  first  hand  cost  little,  and  advice  costs 
nothing,  where  it  is  only  bestowed  upon  those  who  could 
not  afford  to  pay  for  it. 

The  rights  of  the,  poor  are  not  so  important  or  intri- 
cate, as  their  contentions  are  violent  and  ruinous.  A 
Lawyer  or  Attorney,  of  tolerable  knowledge  in  his  pro- 
l2 


146  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

fession,  has  commonly  judgment  enough  to  adjust  these 
disputes,  with  all  the  effect,  and  without  the  expense,  of 
a  law-suit."* 

III.  Pecuniary  Bounty. 

1.  The  obligation  to  bestow  rtliej  upon  the  poor. 

It  is  our  duty  to  bestow  relief  upon  the  poor,  because 
a  portion  of  our  property  will  be  a  greater  benefit  to 
them,  than  it  could  be  to  us,  and  the  sum  of  human  hap- 
piness will  thus  be  increased.  "  The  christian  scriptures 
are  more  copious  and  explicit  upon  this  duty,  than  upon 
almost  any  other. — It  does  not  appear,  that  before  the 
times  of  Christianity,  an  infirmary,  hospital,  or  public 
charity  of  any  kind,  existed  in  the  world ;  whereas  most 
countries  in  Christendom  have  long  abounded  with  these 
institutions. 

2.  The  manner  of  bestowing  bounty  ;  or  the  different  kinds 
of  charity. 

There  are  three  kinds  of  charity  which  prefer  a  claim 
to  attention. 

The  first,  and  one  of  the  best,  is,  to  give  stated  and 
considerable  sums,  by  way  of  pension  or  annuity,  to  in- 
dividuals or  families,  with  whose  behavior  and  distress 
we  ourselves  are  acquainted.  It  is  a  recommendation  of 
this  kind  of  charity,  that  pensions  and  annuities,  which 
are  paid  regularly,  and  can  be  expected  at  the  time,  are 
the  only  way  by  which  we  can  prevent  one  part  of  a 
poor  man's  sufferings, — the  dread  of  want. 

A  second  method  of  doing  good,  which  is  in  every  one's 
power  who  has  the  money  to  spare,  is  by  subscription  to 
public  charities.  Public  charities  admit  of  this  argu- 
ment in  their  favor,  that  your  money  goes  farther  towards 
attaining  the  end  for  which  it  is  given,  than  it  can  do  by 
any  private  and  separate  beneficence. 


*  Ibid.  Chap.  4. 


HAPPINESS  OF    OUR    INFERIORS.  1  27 

The  last,  and,  compared  with  the  former,  the  lowest 
exertion  of  benevolence,  is  the  relief  of  beggars.  Nev- 
ertheless, we  are,  by  no  means,  to  reject,  indiscriminate- 
ly, all  who  implore  our  alms  in  this  way.  Some  may 
perish  by  such  a  conduct.  Men  are  sometimes  overtaken 
by  distress,  for  which  all  other  relief  would  come  too 
late.  Besides  which,  resolutions  of  this  kind  compel  us 
to  offer  such  violence  to  our  humanity,  as  may  go  near, 
in  a  little  while,  to  suffocate  the  principle  itself;  which 
is  a  very  serious  consideration."* 

There  are  other  ways  of  relieving  the  poor,  and  pro- 
moting their  happiness,  which  are  as  important  as  the 
giving  of  money,  food,  or  clothing.  They  may  frequent- 
ly be  furnished  with  employment^  and  thus  not  only  be  ena- 
bled to  obtain  a  supply  for  their  present  wants,  but  also 
be  led  into  a  habit  of  industry.  Those  who  employ  la- 
borers, would  do  well  to  keep  this  subject  in  view  ;  and 
to  consult,  not  merely  their  own  interest,  but  also  the 
relief  and  comfort  of  the  neighboring  poor. — But  there 
is  another  species  of  charity,  which  affords  a  prospect  of 
doing,  in  the  end,  still  greater  good;  and  that  is,  the 
making  provision  for  the  education  of  the  children  of  the 
poor.  By  furnishing  them  with  the  means  of  literary, 
moral,  and  religious  improvement ;  we  may  put  them  in 
a  way  to  become  qualified  to  take  care  of  themselves, 
and  to  be  a  blessing,  instead  of  a  burden,  to  the  public. 

''  3.  The  pretences  by  which  men  excuse  themselves  from 
giving  to  the  poor, 

1.  '  That  they  have  nothing  to  spare,'  that  is,  nothing 
for  which  they  have  not  provided  some  other  use ;  never 
reflecting  whether  it  be  in  their  power^  or  that  it  is  their 
duty^  to  retrench  their  expenses,  and  contract  their  plan, 
'  thai  they  may  have  to  give  to  them  that  need.' " 


*  Ibid.  Chap.  5., 


128  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

2.  '  That  they  have  families  of  their  own,  and  that 
charitjr  begins  at  home.''  If,  by  giving,  they  would  in- 
jure their  own  families  more  than  they  would  benefit  the 
poor,  the  plea  is  a  good  one. 

3.  '  That  they  pay  the  poor  rates.'  Very  well ;  and  if 
all  the  poor  and  distressed  are  in  this  way  comfortably 
provided  for,  they  have  no  farther  claim  upon  our  com- 
passion and  charity. 

"  4.  '  That  the  poor  do  not  suffer  so  much  as  we  ima- 
gine :  that  education  and  habit  have  reconciled  them  to 
the  evils  of  their  condition,  and  make  them  easy  under 
it.'  Habit  can  never  reconcile  human  nature  to  the  ex- 
tremities of  cold,  hunger,  and  thirst,  any  more  than  it  can 
reconcile  the  hand  to  the  touch  of  a  red-hot  iron  :  be- 
sides, the  question  is  not,  how  unhappy  any  one  is,  but 
how  much   more  happy  we  can  make  him. 

5.  ^  That  these  people,  give  them  what  you  will,  will 
will  never  thank  you,  or  think  of  you  for  it.'  In  the  first 
place,  this  is  not  true  :  in  the  second  place,  it  was  not  for 
the  sake  of  their  thanks  that  you  relieved  them."* 

I  will  close  this  chapter  with  some  extracts  from  Dr. 
Brown  "  On  the  Duties  of  Benevolence  ;"t  and  I  flatter 
myself,  that,  though  he  does  not  confine  his  remarks  to 
the  promotion  of  the  happiness  of  our  inferiors^  though 
some  ideas  already  advanced  may  be  repeated,  and  though 
the  extracts  occupy  several  pages,  it  will  not  be  thought, 
by  the  reader  of  moral  sensibility,  that  in  making  them,  I 
need  apology,  either  for  digression,  repetition,  or  prolixity. 

"  The  benevolent  spirit,  as  its  object  is  the  happiness 
of  all  who  are  capable  of  feeling  happiness,  is  as  univer- 
sal in  its  efforts,  as  the  miseries  which  are  capable  of  being 
relieved,  or  the  enjoyments  which  it  is  possible  to  extend 
to  a  single  human  being,  within  the  reach  of  its  efforts,  or 


*  Ibid.  t  Brown's  Philosophy,  Lect.  86. 


HAPPINESS    OF    OUR    INFERIORS.  129 

almost  of  its  wishes.  When  we  speak  of  benefactions,  in- 
deed, we  think  only  of  one  species  of  good  action ;  and  char- 
ity itself,  so  comprehensive  in  its  etymological  meaning,  is 
used  as  if  it  were  nearly  synonymous  with  the  mere  open- 
ing of  the  purse.  But  '  it  is  not  money  only  which  the 
unfortunate  need,  and  they  are  but  sluggards  in  well  do- 
ing,' as  Rosseau  strikingly  expresses  the  character  of 
this  indolent  benevolence,  •  who  know  to  do  good  only 
when  they  have  a  purse  in  their  hand.'  Consolations, 
counsels,  cares,  friendship,  protection,  are  so  many  re- 
sources which  pity  leaves  us  for  the  assistance  of  the 
indigent,  even  though  wealth  should  be  wanting." 

"  If,  indeed,  there  be  in  the  heart  those  genuine  wishes 
of  diffusive  good,  which  are  never  long  absent  from  the 
heart  of  the  virtuous,  there  will  not  long  be  wantiag  oc- 
casions of  exertion.  It  will  not  be  easy  for  an  eye,  that 
has  been  accustomed  to  the  search  of  objects  of  gene- 
rous regard,  to  look  around  without  the  discovery  of 
something  which  may  be  remedied,  or  something  which 
may  be  improved  ;  and  in  relieving  some  misery,  or  pro- 
ducing or  spreading  some  happiness,  the  good  man  will 
already  have  effected  his  delightful  purpose,  before  oth- 
ers would  even  have  imagined  that  there  was  any  good  to 
be  done." 

"  The  benevolent  man  will  be  eager  to  relieve  every 
form  of  personal  suffering.  Public  institutions  arise,  by 
his  zeal,  for  receiving  the  sick,  who  have  no  home,  or  a 
home  which  it  is  almost  sickness  to  inhabit,  and  for  re- 
storing them  in  health  to  those  active  employments  of 
which  they  would  otherwise  have  been  incapable.  In 
the  humblest  ranks  of  life,  when  no  other  aid  can  be 
given  by  the  generous  poor,  than  that  which  their  attend- 
ance and  sympathy  administer,  this  aid  they  never  hesi- 
tate to  afford.  When  their  own  toils  of  the  day  are  over, 
they  often  give  the  hours  of  a  night,  that  is  to  be  termi- 


130  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

nated  in  a  renewed  call  to  their  fatiguing  occupations, — 
not  to  the  repose  which  their  exhausted  strength  might 
seem  to  demand, — but  to  a  watchful  anxiety  around  the 
bed  of  some  feverish  sufferer,  who  is  scarcely  sufficiently 
conscious  of  what  is  around  him  to  thank  them  for  their 
care,  and  whose  look  of  squalid  wretchedness  seems  to 
be  only  death  begun,  and  the  infection  of  death  to  all 
who  gaze  upon  it.  The  same  benevolence,  which  prompts 
to  the  succor  of  the  infirm^  prompts  to  the  succor  also  of 
the  indigent  Though  charity  is  not  tnere  pecuniary  aid, 
pecuniary  aid,  when  such  aid  is  needed,  is  still  one  of  the 
most  useful,  because  one  of  the  most  extensive  in  its  ap- 
plication, of  all  the  services  of  charity.  Nor  is  it  valuable 
only  for  the  temporary  relief  which  it  affords  to  sufferings 
that  could  not  otherwise  be  relieved.  It  has  a  higher  and 
more  comprehensive  office.  It  brings  together  those, 
whose  union  seems  necessary  for  general  happiness,  and 
almost  for  explaining  the  purposes  of  heaven  in  the  pre- 
sent system  of  things.  There  are  every  where  the  rich, 
who  have  means  of  comfort  which  they  know  not  how  to 
ejijoy^  and  scarcely  how  to  waste ; — and  everywhere  some, 
w  ho  are  poor  without  guilt  on  their  part,  or  at  least  rath- 
er guilty  because  they  are  poor,  than  poor  because  they 
are  guilty.  All  which  seems  necessary  for  the  comfort 
of  both,  is,  that  they  should  be  brought  together.  Be- 
nevolence effects  this  union.  It  carries  the  rich  to  the 
cottage,  or  to  the  very  hovels  of  the  poor  j — it  allows 
the  poor  admission  into  the  palaces  of  the  rich ; — and 
both  become  richer  in  the  only  true  sense  of  the  word, 
because  to  both  there  is  an  accession  of  happiness.  The 
wealthy  obtain  the  pleasure  of  doing  good,  and  of  know- 
ing that  there  are  hearts  which  bless  them  ; — the  indi- 
gent obtain  the  relief  of  urgent  necessities,  and  the 
pleasure  of  loving  a  generous  benefactor. 


HAPPINESS    OF    OUR    INFERIORS.  131 

Such  are  the  delightful  influences  of  positive  henevo- 
lence,  in  their  relation  to  the  personal  sufferings,  and  to 
the  pecuniary  wants,  of  those,  who,  if  they  have  no 
property  to  be  assailed  by  injustice,  have  at  least  neces- 
sities, the  disregard  of  which  is  equal  in  moral  delin- 
quency to  injustice  itself  In  its  relation  to  the  affections 
of  those  around^  who  are  connected  with  each  other  by 
various  ties  of  regard,  benevolence  is  not  less  powerful, 
as  a  producer,  or  fosterer  of  good.  Wherever  there  are 
causes  of  future  jealousy,  among  those  who  love  each 
other  at  present,  it  delights  in  dispelling  the  elements  of 
the  cloud,  when  the  cloud  itself,  that  has  not  yet  begun 
to  darken,  scarcely  can  be  said  to  have  arisen.  It  sus- 
picions have  already  gathered  in  the  breast  of  any  one, 
who  thinks,  but  thinks  falsely,  that  he  has  been  injured ; 
it  is  quick,  with  all  the  ready  logic  of  kindness,  to  show 
that  the  suspicions  are  without  a  cause. — If  it  find  not 
suspicion  only,  but  dissention  that  has  burst  out,  in  all  the 
violence  of  mutual  acrimony,  it  appears  in  its  divine  cha- 
racter of  a  peacemaker^  and,  almost  by  the  influence  of 
its  mere  presence,  the  hatred  disappears  and  the  love  re- 
turns— as  if  it  were  as  little  possible,  that  discord  should 
continue  where  it  is,  as  that  the  mists  and  gloom  of  night 
should  not  disappear,  at  the  mere  presence  of  that  sun 
which  shines  upon  them. 

"  The  virtuous  man,"  it  has  been  beautifully  said, 
"  proceeds  without  constraint  in  the  path  of  his  duty. 
His  steps  are  free  ;  his  gait  is  easy ;  he  has  the  graces 
of  virtue.  He  moves  along  in  beaevolence,  and  he  sees 
arising  in  others,  the  benevolence  which  is  in  him.  Of 
all  our  virtuous  emotions,  those  of  kind  regard  are  the 
most  readily  imitated.  To  feel  them  is  to  inspire  them  ; 
to  see  them  is  to  partake  them.  Are  they  in  your  heart  ? 
— they  are  in  your  looks,  in  your  manners,  in  your  dis- 
course.    Your  presence  reconciles  enemies ;  and  hatred 


132  PRACTICAL   ETHICS. 

which  cannot  penetrate  to  your  heart,  cannot  even  dwell 
around  you."* 

If  benevolence  is  eager  to  preserve  the  affection  of 
those  who  love  each  other,  it  cannot  fail  to  be  careful  of 
their  character,^  on  which  so  much  of  affection  depends. 
The  whispers  of  insidious  slanders  may  come  to  it  as 
they  pass, — with  a  secrecy,  which  has  nothing  in  it  of 
real  secrecy,  but  mere  lowness  of  tone, — from  voice  to 
voice  in  eager  publication ;  but  if  there  be  no  other 
Toice  to  bear  them  farther,  they  will  cease  and  perish, 
when  it  is  benevolence  which  has  heard. 

The  power  which  nature  has  given  us  over  the  trains 
of  thought  and  emotion,  which  we  may  raise  more  or 
less  directly,  in  the  minds  of  others,  the  benevolent 
man  will  employ  as  an  instrument  of  his  generous  wishes, 
not  as  an  instrument  of  cruelty.  It  will  be  his  care  to 
awake,  in  the  mind  of  every  one  who  approaches  him, 
the  most  delightful  feelings  which  he  can  awaken,  con- 
sistently with  the  permanent  virtue  and  happiness  of  him 
whom  he  addresses.  He  will  not  flatter,  therefore,  and 
speak  of  faults  as  if  they  were  excellencies,  for  this 
would  be  to  give  a  little  momentary  pleasure  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  virtuous  happiness  of  years.  But  without 
flattery,  he  will  produce  more  pleasure,  even  for  the 
time,  than  flattery  itself  could  give  : — in  the  interest 
which  he  seems  to  feel,  he  will  show  that  genuine  sin- 
cerity, which  impresses  with  irresistible  belief,  and  of 
which  the  confidence  is  more  gratifying  to  the  virtue, — 
I  had  almost  said  to  the  very  vanity  of  man, — than  the 
doubtful  praises  to  which  the  heart,  though  it  may  love  to 
hear  them,  is  incapable  of  yielding  itself. 

Benevolence,  in  this  amiable  form,  of  course,  excludes 
all  haughtiness.     The  great,  however  elevated,  descend, 


*  St.  Lambert,  Ouev.  Phil.  Tome  HI.  p.  179. 


HAPPINESS    OF    OUR    INFERIORS.  133 

under  its  gentle  influence,  to  meet  the  happiness  and  the 
grateful  alf^ction  of  those  who  are  beneath  them;  and  in 
descending  to  happiness  and  gratitude, — which  themselves 
have  produced,  they  do  not  feel  that  they  are  descend- 
ing. Whatever  be  the  scene  of  its  efforts  or  wishes,  to 
do  good  is  to  the  heart  always  to  rise^  and  the  height  of 
its  elevation  is,  therefore,  always  in  proportion  to  the 
quantity  of  good  which  it  has  effected,  or  which,  at 
least,  it  has  had  the  wish  of  effecting. 

Politeness, — which  is,  when  ranks  are  equal,  what  af- 
fability is,  when  the  more  distinguished  rningie  v*'ith  the 
less  distinguished — is  the  natural  effect  of  that  benevo- 
lence which  regards  always  with  sympathetic  complacen- 
cy, and  is  fearful  of  disturbing,  even  by  the  slightest 
momentary  uneusiness,  the  serenity  of  others.  A.breach 
of  attention  in  any  of  the  common  offices  of  civility,  to 
which  the  arbitrary  usages  of  social  life  have  attached 
importance,  even  when  nothing  more  is  intended,  is  still 
a  neglect,  and  neglect  itself  is  an  insult;  it  is  the  imme- 
diate cause  of  a  pain  which  no  human  being  is  entitled, 
where  there  has  been  no  offence,  to  give  to  any  other 
human  being.  Politeness  then, — the  social  virtue  that 
foresees  and  provides  against  every  unpleasant  feeling 
that  may  arise  in  the  breasts  around,  as  if  it  were  some 
quick-sighted  and  guardian  Power,  intent  only  on  general 
happiness, — is  something  far  more  dignified  in  its  nature, 
than  the  cold  courtesies  which  pass  current  under  that 
name,  the  mere  knowledge  of  fashionable  manners,  and 
an  exact  adherence  to  them.  It  is,  in  its  most  essential 
respects,  what  may  be  possessed  by  those,  who  have  lit- 
tle of  the  varying  vocabulary,  and  varying  usages  of  the 
season.  The  knowledge  of  these  is,  indeed,  necessary 
to  such  as  mingle  in  the  circles  which  require  them  ;  but 
they  are  necessary  only  as  the  new  fashion  of  the  coat  or 
splendid  robe,  which  leaves  him  or  her  who  wears  it,  the 


1S4  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

same  human  being,  in  erery  respect,  as  before ;  and  arc 
not  more  a  part  of  either,  than  the  ticket  of  admission, 
which  opens  to  their  ready  entrance,  the  splendid  apart- 
ment, from  which  the  humble  are  excluded.  The  true 
politeness  of  the  heart,  is  something  which  cannot  be 
given  by  those  who  minister  to  mere  decoration.  It  is 
the  moral  grace  of  life,  if  I  may  venture  so  to  term  it, — 
the  grace  of  the  mind^  and  what  the  world  count  graces, 
are  little  more  than  graces  of  the  body. 

Such  is  benevolence  in  the  various  forms  in  which  it 
may  be  instrumental  to  happiness, — and,  in  being  thus  in- 
strumental to  the  happiness  of  others,  it  has  truly  a 
source  of  happiness  within^  itself.  It  may  not  feel 
indeed,  all  the  enjoyment  which  it  wishes  to  diffuse — for 
its  wishes  are  unlimited^ — but  it  feels  an  enjoyment,  that 
is  as  wide  as  all  the  happiness  which  it  sees  around  it,  or 
the  still  greater  and  wider  happiness  of  which  it  antici- 
pates the  existence.  The  very  failure  of  a  benevolent 
wish  ou\y  hreuks  its  delight,  without  destroying  it ;  for 
when  one  wish  of  good  has  failed,  it  has  still  other  wishes 
of  equal  or  greater  good  that  arise,  and  occupy  and  bless 
it  as  before. 

In  considering  the  various  ways  in  which  benevolence 
may  be  active,  we  have  seen  how  extensive  it  may  be  as 
a  feeling  of  the  heart.  If  wealth,  indeed,  were  neces- 
sary, there  would  be  few  who  could  enjoy  it,  or,  at 
least,  who  could  enjoy  it  largely.  But  pecuniary  aid,  as 
we  have  seen,  is  only  one  of  many  forms  of  being  useful 
To  correct  some  error,  moral  or  intellectual, — to  coun- 
sel those  who  are  in  doubt,  and  who  in  such  circumstan- 
ces, require  instruction,  as  the  indigent  require  alms, — 
even  though  nothing  more  were  in  our  power,  to  show 
an  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  happy,  and  a  sincere 
commiseration  of  those  who  are  in  sorrow, — in  those, 
and  in  innumerable  other  ways,  the  benevolent,  however 
scanty  may  be  their  means  of  conferring,  what  alone  the 


HAPPINESS  OF    OUR   INFERIORS,  135 

world  calls  benefactions,  are  not  benevolent  only,  but  be- 
neficent ;  as  truly  beneficent,  or  fiir  more  so,  as  those 
who  squander  in  loose  prodigalities,  to  the  deserving  and 
undeserving,  the  sufferers  from  their  own  thoughtless  dis- 
sipation, or  the  sufferers  from  the  injustice  and  dissipa- 
tion of  others,  almost  as  much  as  they  loosely  squander  on 
a  fjBW  hours  of  their  own  sensual  appetites. 

Even  in  pecuniary  liberalities,  benevolence  does  not 
merely  produce  good,  but  it  knows  well,  or  it  learns  to 
know,  the  greatest  amount  of  good  which  its  liberalities 
can  produce.  To  be  the  cause  of  less  happiness  or  com- 
fort, than  might  be  diffused  at  the  same  cost,  is  almost  a 
species  of  the  same  vice  which  withholds  aid  from  those 
who  require  it.  The  benevolent,  therefore,  are  magni- 
ficent in  their  bounty,  because  they  are  economical  even 
in  bounty  itself.  Their  heart  is  quick  to  perceive  sour- 
ces of  relief  where  others  no  not  see  them;  and  the 
whole  result  of  happiness  produced  by  them,  seems  often 
to  have  arisen  from  a  superb  munificence  which  few 
could  command,  when  it  may,  perhaps,  have  proceeded 
only  from  humble  means,  which  the  possessor  of  similar 
means,  without  similar  benevolence,  would  think  scarcely 
more  than  necessary  for  his  own  strict  necessaries."* 

It  is  by  its  inattention  to  the  little  wants  of  man  that  os- 
tentation distinguishes  itself  from  charity ;  and  a  saga- 
cious observer  needs  no  other  test,  in  the  silent  disdain  or 
eager  reverence  of  his  heart,  to  separate  the  seeming 
benevolence,  which  seeks  the  applauding  voices  of 
crowds,  from  the  real  benevolence,  which  seeks  only  to 
be  the  spreader  of  happiness  or  consolation.  It  is  impos- 
sible for  the  most  ostentatious   producer  of  the   widest 


*  •'  JSTecessary  for  his  own  strict  necessaries^  So  reads  the  only  eilition 
of  Brown's  Lectures  which  I  have  seen,  -that  publislied  at  Andover, 
1822.  Ought  it  not  to  he,  '  sufficient  tor  his  own  strict  necessaries'  ?  or, 
*  necessary  for  his  own  strict  necessities'  ? 


136  PRACTICAL    ETHICS, 

amount  of  good,  with  all  his  largesses,  and  with  all  his  hy- 
pocrisy, to  be  consistent  in  his  acts  of  seeming  kindness ; 
because,  to  be  consistent,  he  must  have  that  real  kind- 
ness, which  sees,  what  the  cold  simulator  of  benevolence 
is  incapable  of  seeing,  and  does,  therefore,  what  such  a 
cold  dissembler  is  incapable  even  of  imagining." 


CHAPTER  V. 

Resentment^  Anger ^  and  Revenge. 

The  different  and  opposite  opinions,  that  are  expressed 
by  different  persons,  respecting  the  lawfulness  of  resent- 
ment and  anger^  are,  probably,  in  many  instances,  nothing 
more  than  a  disagreement  in  the  use  of  words,  without 
any  difference  of  sentiment.*  As  to  revenge^  the  mean- 
ing of  the  term  appears  to  be  better  established  ;  and  I 
know  of  no  law,  except  that  of  "  Honor,"  by  which  the 
passion  is  authorized. 

Anger^ — as  far  as  I  can  judge  of  the  ordinary  accepta- 
tion of  the  term, — is  a  desire  that  another  may  suffer  pain^ 
on  account  of  an  injury  he  has  done^  or  an  affront  he  has  of- 
fered. This  is  distinct  from  a  desire  that  the  other  may 
be  reformed,  or  that  he  may  bo  punished  lor  the  sake  of 
being  reformed,  or  that  the  injury  or  loss  which  we  have 
sustained  may  be  repaired.  A  desire  that  another  may 
be  punished  for  the  sake  of  being  reformed,  is  a  benev- 
olent desire,  which  has  the  virtue,  happiness,  and  useful- 
ness of  the  other  as  its  object,  and  regrets  the  necessity 
of  inflicting  punishment   in   order  to  attain  that  object 

♦  See  p.  30. 


RfcSfcNTMENT,    ANGER,    AND    REVENGE.  137 

A  desire  that  another  may  be  punished  for  the  sake  of 
deterring  others  from  committing  the  same  crime,  is  also 
a  benevolent  de.«ire,  and  has  the  public  welfare  for  its  ob- 
ject. But  anger  is  a  malevolent  desire,  which  feels  a  grat- 
ification arising  directlj  from  the  pain  that  the  other 
suffers,  and  has  the  infliction  of  pain  or  evil  as  its  direct 
and  ultimate  object.  Anger  may  be  mingled  with  other 
feelings;  but  jusi  so  far  and  so  long  as  it  has  a  place  in 
the  breast,  this  is  its  nature.  A  desire  to  obtain  repara- 
tion for  an  injury,  has  respect  merely  to  one's  own  inte- 
rest, and  may  be  accompanied  by  anger,  or  may  not. 

Revenge  is  the  malicious  inflicting  of  pain  upon  the 
person  who  has  injured  or  offended  us.  If  the  pain  is  in- 
flicted from  malicious  motives,  it  is  revenge,  even  though 
it  go  no  further  than  the  just  ends  of  punishment  or  re- 
paration may  require.  "  There  cannot  be  much  difficul- 
ty?" says  Dr.  Paley,  ^^in  distinguishing  whether  we  oc- 
casion pain  to  another  with  a  view  only  to  the  ends  of 
punishment,  or  from  revenge ;  for  in  the  one  case  we 
proceed  with  reluctance,  in  the  other  with  pleasure."* 
— The  word  '  revenge,'  as  in  the  passage  just  quoted,  is 
sometimes  used  to  denote  the  passion^  which  impels  to 
acts  of  retaliation.  Taken  in  this  sense,  it  seems  to  differ 
from  anger  only  in  degree.  When  anger  rises  high,  or 
continues  long,  so  as  to  lead  a  person  to  meditate  acts  of 
retaliation,  it  is  then  called  revenge. 

As  to  restntment^  it  seems  not  to  differ  from  anger,  ex- 
cept in  being  a  more  sudden  rising  of  the  passion,  and  of 
shorter  duration.  Perhaps  there  is  also  this  ^'  rence, 
that  resentment  is  wholly  personal  and  selfish,  while  an- 
ger and  revenge  may  be  excited  on  account  of  another. 
In  this  latter  case,  however.  Dr.  Brown  gives  to  the  emo- 
tion, and  perhaps  more  correctly,  the  name  of  indignation. 


*Paley's  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  III.  Part  II.  Chap.  7. 
m2 


138  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

It  appears,  then,  that  resentment,  anger,  and  revenge^ 
being  all  of  the  same  nature, — and  that  a  malevolent  na- 
ture,— are  all  of  them  criminal^  ''  in  every  degree,  un- 
der all  forms,  and  upon  every  occasion." — But  it  may  be 
proper  now  to  consider  some  passages  of  scripture,  which 
have  been  thought  to  prove  that  anger  is  sometimes  in- 
7wcenU 

1.  "He  looked  round  about  on  them  with  anger,  being 
grieved  for  the  hardness  of  their  hearts."*  If  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  "  who  knew  no  sin,"  had  feelings  of  anger, 
surely  anger  cannot  always  be  sinful. — I  replj^,  that  the 
word  is  here  used  in  a  different  sense  from  that  in  which 
it  is  generally  used  at  the  present  day.  Its  meaning  is 
explained  by  the  clause  that  follows :  "  being  grieved 
for  the  hardness  of  their  hearts."  If  those  who  hold 
that  anger  is  sometimes  innocent,  mean  such  anger  as  our 
blessed  Savior  felt,  when  he  was  grieved  at  the  impeni- 
tence and  wickedness  of  the  Jews,  I  have  no  controver- 
sy with  them. — A  similar  remark  may  be  made  upon 
those  passages,  in  which  the  anger  or  w  rath  of  God  is  spo- 
ken of.  The  term,  when  thus  used,  denotes  a  disapproba- 
tion of  sin,  and  a  disposition  to  punish  the  wicked  ; — but  a 
disapprobation,  which  is  consistent  with  perfect  benevo- 
lerice  toward  the  sinner ;  and  a  disposition  to  punish,  for 
the  sake,  not  of  inflicting  pain  on  the  individual,  but  of 
promoting  the  happiness  of  the  universe. 

2.  "  Whosoever  is  angry  with  his  brother  without  a 
eause^  shall  be  in  danger  of  the  judgment ;  that  is,  "  wor- 
thy to  be  punished  by  the  judges."!  This  passage  seems 
to  imply,  that  anger,  when  there  is  a  cause  for  it,  is  in- 
nocent.— But,  in  the  first  place,  Christ  is  here  speaking 
of  a  human  judicature ;  and  it  is  unsafe  to  conclude,  that 
nothing  will  be  condemned  at  the  bar  of  God,  for  which 


*  Mark,  iii.  5.  f  Matt.  v.  22. 


RESENTMENT,    ANGER,    AND    REVENOE.  139 

it  is  not  proper  that  a  man  should  be  arraigned  at  a  human 
tribunal. — In  the  next  place,  Christ  is  stating  different 
grades  of  guilt  ;  and  we  are  not  authorized  to  take  it  for 
granted,  that  he  begins  at  the  lowest  possible.  He  says, 
that  unprovoked  anger  is  worthy  of  a  certain  punishment^ 
which  he  specifies ;  but  he  does  not  say,  nor  can  we  infer, 
that  anger  which  arises  from  provocation,  is  worthy  of 
no  punishment.  All  that  we  can  infer  is,  that  such  anger 
usually  involves  a  lower  degree  of  guilt,  and  deserves  a 
less  punishment. — Origen,  I'ertullian,  Jerome,  and  some 
others  of  the  Fathers,  considered  the  word  ecxr]^ "  with- 
out a  cause,"  to  be  an  interpolation  ;  and  it  seems  not  an 
improbable  supposition,  that  the  word  was  originally 
written  on  the  margin  as  a  gloss,  and  afterwards, — as  has 
happened  in  other  instances, — crept  into  the  text.  Gries- 
bach  and  Kosenmiiller,  however,  consider  the  received 
reading  as  genuine. 

3.  '^^  Be  ye  angry  and  sin  not."*  That  is,  '  When  ye 
are  angry,'  or  '  Though  ye  be  angry,  sin  not ;'  for  it  can 
hardly  be  supposed,  that  anger  is  here  commanded  as  a 
duty.  The  word  ^sin,'  as  here  used,  appears  to  refer  to 
the  external  act  ;  as  in  Malt,  xviii.  15  ;  Luke,  xvii.  3,  4  ; 
"  If  thy  brother  sin  {d{xagT7]6ri)  against  thee."t  Tak- 
ing the  word  '  sin' in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  used  in 
these  and  other  passages,  and  supplying  the  words '  against 
any  one,'  the  meaning  will  be,  '^  When  ye  are  angry,  do 
not  injure  any  one  ;"  or,  "  suffer  not  your  anger  to  im- 
pel you  to  acts  of  revenge."  Or,  without  supplying  any- 
thing, the  word  '  sin'  may  denote  such  outward  acts  in 
general,  as  are  promi)ted  by  angry  passions.  This  inter- 
pretation seems  to  receive  some  countenance  from  the 
following  verse,  if  vve  translate  it — as  it  may  well  be 
translated — according    to    the    opinion    of     Schleusner, 

*  Eph.  iv.  26.    t  See  also  Gen,  xlii.  22  ;  Judges,  xi.  27 ;  1  Sam.  3iix.4. 


140  PRACTICAL    ETHIC«. 

'^  Neither  give  occasion  to  the  slanderer.""  That  the 
apostle  does  not  mean  to  represent  it  as  innocent  to  be 
"  angry,''  appears  from  his  utterly  forbidding  anger  only 
a  few  lines  below  :  "  Let  all  bitterness^  and  wrath^  and  an^ 
ger^  and  clamor,  and  evil-spcHking,  be  put  away  from 
you,  with  all  m:dice  ;  and  be  ye  kind  one  to  another, 
tender-hearted,  forgiving  one  another,  even  as  God  for 
Christ's  sake  hath  forgiven  you/'* 

T.  here  is  another  view  of  the  passage  under  conside- 
ration, which  may,  perhaps,  be  preferred  by  some  lovers 
of  Idblical  criticism.  This  passage  is  quoted,  in  the 
words  of  the  Septuagint  Version,  from  Ps.  iv.  4;  '^  Stand 
in  awe,  and  sin  not."  The  Hebrew  verb,  which  is  ren- 
dered "  Stand  in  awe,"  literally  denotes  agitation  ;  and 
is  hence  used  to  denote  any  passion  or  emotion  which  agi- 
tates the  breast.  It  is  frequently  applied  to  Jear*  in  the 
Bible,  and  with  equal  propriety  as  to  anger.  Our  trans- 
lators, therefore,  have  not  departed  from  the  original  in 
their  translation  of  Ps.  iv.  4 ;  and  it  appears  from  the 
context,  that  their  translation  is  judicious  and  correct. 
Now,  as  far  as  the  judgment  and  skill  of  the  authors  of 
the  Septuagint  can  be  depended  upon,  as  coinciding  with 
the  opinion  of  our  translators,  the  Greek  verb,  which 
they  have  used  in  Ps.  iv.  4,  and  which  St.  Paul  has  quo- 
ted in  Eph.  iv.  S;6,  is  not  confined  to  the  passion  of  an- 
ger, but  is  also  used  to  denote  that  agitation  in  the  feel- 
ings, which  may  be  occasioned  by  fear,  or  hy  other  caus- 
es. A  man's  feelings  may  be  wounded  and  agitated  by 
unkindness,  or  by  injuries  and  affronts,  without  his  feel- 
ing any  resentment,  or  desire  of  revenge,  toward  the  in- 
jurious person.  'I'hus,  the  meaning  of  Eph.  iv.  £6,  will 
be  ;  "  When  your  feelings  are  hurt,  and  your  breast  agi- 
tated, by  unkind  treatment,  suffer  not  any  sinful  passion  to 


*  See  also  Col.  iii.  8  ;  and  Ps.  xxxvii.  8. 


RESENTMENT,    ANGER,    AND    REVENGE.  141 

be  excited,  such  as  resentment,  anger,  or  revenge  ;  and 
les^t  this  should  be  the  case,  calm  the  agitation  of  your 
breast,  and  heal  the  wound  in  your  feelings,  as  soon  ai 
possible  ;  let  not  the  day  close,  before  composure  and 
peace  are  restored  to  your  mind/' 

This  interpretation  rests  on  the  supposition,  that  St. 
Paul  has  used  the  Greek  verb,  in  Eph.  iv.  26,  in  the 
same  sense  as  the  authors  of  the  Septuagint  Version  have 
done  in  Ps.  iv.  4  ;  and  that  they  understood  the  Hebrew 
verb,  in  that  passage,  in  the  same  sense  as  our  translators 
have  d«ne.  Perhaps  the  interpretation  also  receives 
some  countenance  from  Mark,  iii.  5  ;  but  it  must  be  ac- 
knowledged that  it  is  opposed  by  the  ordinary  meaning 
of  the  word  '  anger'  in  the  New  Testament,  and  espe- 
cially in  Eph.  iv.  31.  Whether  we  adopt  this  interpre- 
tation, or  that  which  was  tirst  proposed,  St.  Paul  says 
nothing  which  implies  the  innocence  of  such  anger  as 
prompts  to  revenge,  or  as  is  inconsistent  with  exercising, 
at  the  same  time,  benevolent  feelings  toward  the  person 
who  has  injured  us. 

Other  arguments,  beside  those  derived  from  scripture, 
have  been  used  in  justification  of  anger.  It  has  been 
said,  that  anger  is  very  useful^  tending  to  repel  injury  and 
to  strike  evil-doers  with  terror.  We  might  admit  this, 
without  admitting  the  conclusion  that  anger  is  justifiable. 
Anger  is  not  shown  to  be  virtuous  or  innocent,  merely  by 
showing  that  it  is  promotive  of  the  public  good.  He,  in 
the  volume  of  whose  word  it  is  written,  "  The  wrath  of 
man  shall  praise  thee,"  is  able  to  overrule  for  good  the 
blackest  crimes  which  have  ever  been  perpetrated.  But 
from  the  circumstance  that  a  thing  is  made  subservient  to 
the  production  oi  good,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  is  good 
in  itself.  It  may  not  be  difficult  to  show  '^  the  wisdom  of 
€rod  in  the  permission  of  sin ;"  but  it  is  a  strange  kind  of 


142  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

moral  reasoning,  which  would  infer,  that  because  God  is 
wise.)  sin  is  a  virtue. 

But  we  may  be  allowed  to  doubt,  whether  anger  w  use- 
ful, as  it  respects  the  present  state  of  existence.  It  is,  in- 
deed, desirable  that  injury  should  be  repelled,  and  that 
he  who  tramples  on  the  rights  and  invades  the  happiness 
of  others,  should  suffer  that  punishment  which  may  put 
an  end  to  his  own  career  of  wickedness,  and  deter  from 
an  imitation  of  his  example.  But  is  there  no  principle 
in  human  nature,  capable  of  accomplishing  this,  but  ma- 
levolence, which  delights  in  the  very  sufferings  of  its 
object  ?  When  the  traveller  is  attacked  by  the  midnight 
robber,  is  there  nothing  but  a  desire  to  take  revenge  on 
the  assailant,  that  can  nerve  his  arm,  and  make  him  prompt 
and  intrepid  in  defending  his  property  and  life  ?  Let  us 
suppose  the  attack  to  be  made  by  a  ferocious  beast,  in- 
stead of  a  human  foe.  Must  he  imagine  the  brutal  inva- 
der to  act  with  a  criminal  design,  and  thus  become  fired 
with  a  spirit  of  retaliation,  before  he  can  exert  all  his 
strength  in  repelling  the  attack  ?  Or,  to  make  the  case 
still  plainer,  let  us  suppose  a  man  to  be  exposed  to  immi- 
nent danger  from  some  violence  of  the  elements  or  from 
the  impulse  of  inanimate  matter.  Can  he  not  struggle 
with  the  wind  or  the  water, — can  he  not  oppose  his  arm 
to  the  rock  or  falling  tree,  that  is  about  to  crush  him 
with  its  weight,  and  exert  every  bodily  power  that  God 
has  given  him,  unless  he  first  imagines  that  he  is  attacked 
by  a  rational  foe,  who  wickedly  and  maliciously  seeks  his 
life  ?  The  same  principle  of  self-preservation,  which 
operates  in  these  cases,  appears  capable  of  answering  the 
purpose  required  equally  well,  when  the  attack  is  made 
by  a  human  agent, — although  unaccompanied  by  a  desire 
of  inflicting  evil  on  the  aggressor. 

But  there  is  a  case,  to  which  the  preceding  remarks 
do  not  apply.     After  the  injury  is  done,  what  principle, 


RESENTMENT,  ANGER,  AND  REVENGE.  143 

but  that  of  retaliation,  is  sufficiently  active  and  unfeeling 
to  bring  the  offender  to  justice?  I  reply,  a  sense  of  future 
evil  to  be  apprehended  from  the  same  source,  together 
with  a  patriotic  regard  to  the  public  welfare.  The  man, 
who  has  been  injured  in  his  person  or  property,  must  be 
sensible,  that  to  suffer  the  villain  who  has  injured  him  to 
escape  with  impunity,  will  but  invite  him  to  a  repetition 
of  the  injury,  and  encourage  others,  of  like  disposition, 
to  imitate  his  example.  Such  a  man,  too,  though  unin- 
fluenced by  resentment,  must  have  a  more  adequate  con- 
ception, than  others  in  general  can  have,  of  the  perni- 
cious tendency  of  such  crimes  as  it  respects  the  public 
welfare.  Every  man,  whether  he  possesses  disinterested 
benevolence  of  the  purest  kind  or  not,  desires  the  wel- 
fare of  his  own  town,  and  province,  and  country.  And 
there  are  few  men,  of  common  virtue,  who  would  not 
exert  themselves, — for  the  sake  of  the  public  good,  in 
which  themselves  have  a  share, — to  bring  to  justice  those 
who  transgress  the  civil  law  in  instances  much  less  atro- 
cious than  an  attack  upon  the  person  or  property,  were  it 
not  for  the  odium  and  censure  to  be  incurred, — from  some 
whose  interest  it  is  that  the  law  should  not  be  rigorously 
enforced,— by  taking  the  lead  in  that,  in  which,  it  will  be 
said,  it  was  not  their  business  to  intermeddle.  The  ma- 
jority, I  trust,  is  large,  who,  were  it  not  for  the  fear  of 
such  odium  and  censure,  would  not  suffer  the  laws  to  be 
violated,  as  they  are,  by  sabbath-breaking,  profaneness, 
and  the  unlicensed  retail  of  spirituous  liquors.  Now, 
where  a  man  has  received  a  personal  injury,  he  has  not 
only  a  more  distinct  and  adequate  conception  of  the  evil 
which  himself  and  the  public  are  liable  to  suffer  from  the 
future  perpetration  of  similar  crimes,  but  he  can  proceed 
to  prosecute  the  offender  without  affording  any  plausible 
pretext  for  the  tongue  of  calumny  to  utter  its  insinuations 
and  reproaches. 


144  PRACTICAL    ETHICS^ 

It  appears,  then,  that  anger  is  not  necessary  for  the 
safety  or  welfare  of  human  society.  How  unhappy  its 
effects  often  are,  is  too  well  known  to  need  illustration. 

I  have  used  the  term  '  anger'  to  denote  a  malevolent 
feeling, — a  feeling  which  ^'  prompts  to  revenge,"  hecauvse 
I  believe  this  to  be  its  general  acceptation.  1  am  aware, 
however,  that  there  are  some,  who  would  use  the  word, 
occasionally  at  least,  in  a  good  sense,  namely,  to  denote 
a  strong  disapprobation, — an  emotion  of  disapprobation, 
perhaps,  which  produces  some  degree  of  agitation  in  the 
breast.  But  the  occasional  use  of  words  in  a  good  sense, 
which  are  generally  used  in  a  bad  sense,  or  the  use  of 
words  in  a  good  sense  by  a  few  individuals,  while  they 
are  understood  in  a  bad  sense  by  men  in  general,  is  pro- 
ductive of  very  great  evils.*  Neither  does  the  practice 
of  ascribing  anger  to  God,  in  the  sacred  writings,  appear 
to  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  using  the  same  language  to 
denote  a  virtuous  disapprobation  in  men.  When  such 
language  is  applied  to  God,  there  is  no  danger  of  its  being 
misunderstood  by  those  who  have  any  correct  ideas  of  the 
divine  character.  In  God,  it  must  mean  a  holy  disappro- 
bation of  sin.  But  in  man,  there  are  other  feelings,  far 
from  being  virtuous,  which  may  be,  and  frequently  are, 
denoted  by  it.  Add  to  this,  that,  excepting  one  or  two 
passages,  of  doubtful  interpretation,  anger  in  men  is  uni- 
formly condemned  in  the  Bible.  I'he  language  of  inspi- 
ration, therefore,  furnishes  an  argument  against  using  the 
term  '  anger'  in  a  good  sense  in  relation  to  men. 

Of  the  criminality  of  a  spirit  of  revenge  in  the  sight 
of  God,  we  may  form  an  idea,  by  the  stress  that  is  laid, 
in  the  Bible,  upon  the  duty  of  forgiveness.  ^^  Christ,  who 
estimated  virtues  by  their  solid  utility,"  says  Dr.  Paley, 
"  and  not  by  their  fashion  or  popularity,  prefers  this  of 


*See  remarks  on  the  terms  *  Emulation'  and  '  Ambition/  Chap.  VII. 


RESENTMENT,  ANGER,  AND  REVENGE,  145 

the  forgiveness  of  injuries  to  every  other.  He  enjoins  it 
oftener ;  with  more  earnestness ;  under  a  greater  variety 
of  forms ;  and  with  this  weighty  and  peculiar  circum- 
stance, that  the  forgiveness  of  others  is  the  condition  up- 
on which  alone  we  are  to  expect,  or  even  ask,  from  God, 
forgiveness  for  ourselves.  And  this  preference  is  justifi- 
ed by  the  superior  importance  of  the  virtue  itself  The 
feuds  and  animosities  in  families  and  between  neighbors, 
which  disturb  the  intercourse  of  human  life,  and  collec- 
tively compose  half  the  misery  of  it,  have  their  foun- 
dation in  the  want  of  a  forgiving  temper ;  and  can  nev- 
er cease,  but  by  the  exercise  of  this  virtue,  on  one 
side,  or  on  both."* 

The  following  passages  of  scripture  may  suffice  to  shoir, 
what  conduct  and  feelings  are  allowed  toward  an  enemy, 
and  what  are  forbidden  :  "  If  thou  meet  thine  enemy's 
ox  or  his  ass  going  astray ,  thou  shalt  surely  bring  it  back 
to  him  again." — "  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that 
curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  ahd  pray  for 
them  that  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you." — "  if 
3^e  forgive  men  their  trespasses,  your  heavenly  Father 
will  also  forgive  you ;  but  if  ye  forgive  not  men  their 
trespasses,  neither  will  your  Father  forgive  your  trespas- 
ses."— "  And  his  lord  was  wroth,  and  delivered  him  to 
the  tormentors,  till  he  should  pay  all  that  was  due  to  him : 
so  likewise  shall  my  heavenly  Father  do  also  to  you,  if  ye 
from  your  hearts  forgive  not  every  one  his  brother  their 
trespasses." — "  Put  on  bowels  of  mercy,  kindness,  hum- 
bleness of  mind,  meekness,  long  suffering ;  forbearing  one 
another,  and  forgiving  one  another,  if  any  man  have  a 
quarrel  against  any ;  even  as  Christ  forgave  you,  so  also 
do  ye." — "  Be  patient  toward  all  men ;  see  that  none 
render  evil  for  evil  to  any  man." — "  Avenge  not  your- 


*  Moral  Philos.  Book  III.  Part  II.  Chap.  8. 
isr 


146  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

selves,  but  rather  give  place  unto  wrath ;  for  it  is  writ- 
ten, Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord. 
Therefore,  if  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him ;  if  he  thirst, 
give  him  drink ;  for,  in  so  doing,  thou  shalt  heap  coals  of 
lire  on  his  head.  Be  not  overcome  of  evil,  but  overcome 
evil  with  good."* 

CKAFTZSR  VX. 

Duelling, 

"  A  Duel  is  a  single  combat,  at  a  time  and  place  ap- 
pointed, in  consequence  of  a  challenge.  It  must  be  pre- 
meditated, otherwise  it  is  called  a  rencounter. 

The  origin  of  the  duel  is  to  be  sought  in  the  supersti- 
tious customs  of  the  Scandinavians  and  other  northern  na- 
tions. Among  all  such  nations,  courage  seems  to  have 
been  the  ruling  principle.  This  principle,  impatient  of 
the  forms  of  law,  impelled  them  to  avenge  their  own 
wrongs  at  the  point  of  the  sword ;  and  whoever  declined 
to  do  so,  was  branded  with  the  appellation  of  cowardice, 
and  on  that  account  looked  upon  as  infamous.  The  prac- 
tice was  also  intimately  connected  with  their  notions  of 
religion.  The  single  combat  was  viewed  as  a  direct  ap- 
peal to  heaven ;  and  he  on  whose  side  victory  declared, 
was  believed  to  have  the  juster  cause. 

This  custom,  originating  in  a  period  of  ignorance  and 
superstition,  has  maintained  its  ground  amidst  all  the  im- 
provements of  society.  This  circumstance  is  very  much 
owing  to  the  laws,  which  have  been  passed  against  it, 
not  being  carried  into  effect. 


*Ex.  xxiii.  4;  Matt.  v.  44;  vi.  14, 15;  xyHi.  34,  35;  Col.  iiL  12, 13; 
Thess.  Y.  14, 15;  Rom.  xii.  19—21. 


DUELLING.  147 

The  object  which  the  duellist  proposes,  is  altogether 
of  a  personal  nature,  being  either  to  gratify  some  passion, 
which  every  good  man  ought  to  restrain,  or  to  avoid  the 
imputation  of  cowardice,  of  which,  perhaps,  he  was  never 
suspected.  His  object,  therefore,  is  selfish ;  and  the 
means  by  which  he  attains  this  object  are  contrary  to  law, 
reason,  and  religion.  He  takes  the  laws,  indeed,  in  his 
own  hand,  and  acts  as  judge  in  his  own  cause.  On  account 
of  some  unguarded  word,  or  some  trifling  offence,  he 
wantonly  risks  his  own  life,  and  involves,  perhaps,  in 
wretchednesf,  a  wife  and  family  who  depend  upon  him 
for  subsistence.  Religion  enjoins  forgiveness  of  injuries ; 
— the  duellist  thinks  only  of  revenge.  Religion  recom- 
mends patience  and  forbearance ; — the  duellist  declares, 
that  he  who  does  not  resent  his  own  wrongs,  is  not  fit  to 
live  in  society.  Humility  is  a  fundamental  principle  of 
the  christian  religion ; — duelling  is  supported  and  nour-^ 
ished  by  pride  :  for  honor,  in  the  fashionable  sense  of  the 
word,  is  nothing  else  than  pride  modified  by  certain  rules. 

Hence  this  practice  has  ever  been  reprobated  by  all 
wise  and  good  men.  The  Due  de  Sully,  one  of  the  first 
generals  of  his  own  or  any  other  age,  has  transmitted  to 
posterity  his  testimony  against  it,  in  the  following  point- 
ed language  :  "  That,''  said  he,  "  which  arms  us  against 
our  friends  or  countrymen,  in  contempt  of  all  laws,  as 
well  divine  as  human,  is  but  a  brutal  fierceness,  madness, 
and  real  pusillanimity."* 

Duelling  is  a  crime,  which  partakes  of  the  guilt  both 
of  murder  and  of  suicide.  "  Wherever  human  life  is  de- 
liberately taken  away,  otherwise  than  by  public  authori- 
ty, there  is  murder."!  Therefore,  just  so  great  a  proba- 
bility as  there  is,  that  he  who  gives  or  accepts  a  challenge, 
will  take  the  life  of  his  opponent,  just  so  much  of  the 
guilt  of  murder  does  he  contract.     And  in  the  same  de- 


"^New  Edinburgh  Encyclopedia.  fPaley, 


148  FRACTICAL    ETHie5. 

gree  is  he  guilty  of  suicide,  because  he,  in  the  same  de- 
gree, deliberately  exposes  his  own  life.  Both  these  com- 
bined, appear  to  make  a  sum  of  guilt  as  great  as  that  of 
deliberate  murder.  It  seems  probable,  that  the  instances 
in  which  both  parties  fall,  are  as  numerous  as  those  in 
which  neither  does ;  so  that  the  number  of  those  who 
are  killed  in  duels,  is  as  great  as  the  number  of  duels 
fought ;  and  therefore,  in  any  particular  duel,  there  is  a 
chance,  which  is  equivalent  to  a  certainty  that  one  of  the 
parties  will  be  killed.  If  this  should  be  thought  to  be 
going  beyond  the  truth,  it  is  to  be  taken  into  the  account, 
that  where  the  one  party  is  killed,  the  other  is  often  se- 
verely wounded  ;  that  this  is  often  the  fate  of  both  parties, 
where  neither  of  them  is  killed ;  that  while  he  who  is 
murdered  by  a  common  assassin,  dies  without  disgrace  or 
guilt,  he  who  falls  in  a  duel,  covers  his  ashes  with  igno- 
miny ;  that  the  example  set  by  the  duellist,  is  more  con- 
tagious, and  therefore  more  pernicious,  than  that  set  by 
a  common  assassin  ;  and  that  the  distress  which  is  brought 
upon  the  family  and  friends  of  the  party  that  falls,  is 
greater  than  in  the  case  of  ordinary  murder.  It  is  little 
or  no  extenuation  of  the  crime  of  duelling,  that  "  a  law 
of  honor  has  annexed  the  imputation  of  cowardice  to 
patience  under  an  affront,  and  challenges  are  given  and 
accepted  with  no  other  design,  than  to  prevent  or  wipe 
off  this  suspicion."*  Though  the  duellist  be  not  always, 
or  be  seldom,  actuated  by  malice  against  his  adversary  ; 
yet  the  contempt  which  he  casts  upon  God,  and  the  infi- 
del presumption  with  which  he  hastens  to  the  retribu- 
tions of  eternity,  appear  to  be  even  greater  than  in  him 
who  commits  murder  from  motives  of  malice  and  revenge. 
Most  emphatically  may  it  be  said  of  the  duellist,  "  there 

IS  NO  FEAR  OF  GOD  BEFORE  HIS  EYES." 


*  Paley's  Moral  Philos.  Book  III.  Part  II.  Chap.  9, 


(  H9) 


CHAPTER  VIZ. 


Emulation  and  Ambition, 


I.  Definition  of  Terms, 

The  meaning  of  the  terms  '  emulation'  and  ^  ambition,' 
appears  to  be  still  more  undefined  and  unsettled,  than 
that  of '  resentment'  and  '  anger.'  Our  first  object,  there- 
fore, will  be  to  point  out,  as  clearly  and  distinctly  as  pos- 
sible, the  sense  in  which  these  terms  will  be  used  in  the 
present  chapter. 

1.  Emulation^ — as  far  as  I  can  judge  of  the  roost  com- 
mon meaning  of  the  word, — is  a  desire  to  excel,  for  the  sake 
oj  the  gratification  which  arises  from  being  superior  to  others. 
This  gratification  includes  both  the  pleasure  of  reflecting 
on  our  own  superiority,  and  also  that  of  seeing  and  think- 
ing that  this  superiority  is  known  to  our  companions,  or 
to  the  world.  The  votary  of  emulation  loves  to  look 
down  upon  others  ;  and  the  greater  is  the  number  which 
he  sees  below  him,  of  those  who  were  once  his  equals  or 
superiors,  the  more  exquisite  is  the  gratification  which 
he  feels.  He  is  willing  that  others  should  stand  high,  if 
he  can  stand  still  higher ;  but  if  he  must  stand  low,  he 
wishes  that  they  should  stand  still  lower.  This  principle 
of  action  seems  sometimes  to  become  so  strong,  as  to 
swallow  up  all  others.  Of  this,  a  striking  instance  is  af- 
forded in  the  language  which  Milton  ascribes  to  Satan  : 
"  Better  to  reign  in  hell,  than  serve  in  heaven." 
He  who  is  actuated  by  the  principle  of  emulation, 
usually  chooses  to  obtain  a  superiority  to  others  by  elevat- 
ing himself,  rather  than  by  depressing  them ;  and  that  for 
two  reasons :  First,  because  he  will  in  this  way  become 
-superior,  not  only  to  his  immediate  competitors,  but  also 
to  others  at  a  greater  distance,  and  will  thus  hold  a 


16§  PRACTICAL    ETHieS. 

more  elevated  station  in  the  view  of  the  world ;  and  se- 
condly, because  he  will  gain  more  admiration  and  ap- 
plause, if  he  raises  himself  by  fair  means,  than  if  he  re- 
tards or  sinks  others  in  order  to  get  above  them. 

2.  The  word  '  ambitionP  is  frequently  synonymous  with 
'  emulation' ;  but  it  is  also  frequently  used  in  senses  in 
which  '  emulation'  is  not.  This  latter  term  is  confined, 
chiefly,  in  its  application,  to  children  and  youth ;  while 
'  ambition'  is  used  to  denote  the  operation  of  the  same 
principle  in  men,  especially  those  who  signalize  them- 
selves in  a  political  or  military  capacity.  Emulation  has 
respect,  chiefly,  to  rivals  that  are  near  at  hand  :  ambition 
seeks  a  superiority  which  has  no  limits.  Emulation 
seeks  to  excel,  chiefly,  in  things  which  are  of  a  personal 
nature  ;  as  in  bodily  strength  and  agility,  or  in  mental 
attainments  and  powers.  Ambition,  beside  seeking  to 
exceed  others  in  the  same  endowments  exercised  on  a 
larger  scale,  also  seeks  to  exceed  them  in  grandeur, 
wealth,  power,  and  fame.  The  principle^  in  all  these 
cases,  is  the  same.  It  is  a  desire  of  superiority  for  the 
sake  of  the  gratification  and  the  personal  advantages 
which  it  affords. 

The  word  '  ambition'  is  also  sometimes  used  to  denote 
merely  an  earnest  desire^  without  any  reference  to  rival- 
ship  or  competition.  Thus,  a  child  who  studies  alone,  is 
sometimes  said  to  be  '  ambitious'  to  learn,  meaning  mere- 
ly that  he  is  very  fond  of  his  studies,  and  very  desirous  to 
acquire  knowledge.  Thus,  a  man  sometimes  says,  that 
it  is  his  '  highest  ambition'  to  please  another  and  to  gain 
his  approbation,  meaning  merely,  in  the  language  of  hy- 
perbole, that  he  has  a  very  strong  desire  to  please  him. 
In  this  sense,  ambition  is  totally  distinct  from  emulation. 
I  am  not  certain,  however,  that  this  use  of  the  word  is 
found  in  any  good  writer.  la  the  present  chapter,  1  shall 
use  the  terms  ^  emulation'  and  '  ambition'  as  denotinof  the 
same  principle. 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION.  151 

II.  The  nature  and  tendency  of  emulation,  may  be  fur- 
ther illustrated  by  considering  the  connection  which  this 
principle  has  with  some  others. 

1.  It  is  intimately  connected  with  pride  and  vanity^ 
Pride  is  "  the  thinking  of  ourselves  more  highly  than  we 
ought  to  think."  Emulation,  by  leading  a  person  to  think 
frequently  of  his  own  attainments  and  excellencies,  pro- 
duces and  cherishes  pride.  Vanity  is  "  a  desire  of  admi- 
ration" ;  and  this  is  an  essential  ingredient  in  emulation. 
The  votary  of  emulation  usually  receives  his  chief 
pleasure  from  being  admired  and  commended.  Here  and 
there  an  individual  may  rest  satisfied  with  a  proud  con- 
sciousness of  superiority ;  but  there  are  few,  who  would 
derive  any  great  satisfaction  from  being  superior  to  oth- 
ers, unless  their  superiority  were  known  and  noticed. 

2.  Emulation  is  intimately  connected  with  envy  and 
hatred.  '*  Plato  makes  emulation  the  daughter  of  envy  ;"* 
but  I  would  rather  say  she  is  the  mother  of  envy,  since  it 
appears  to  be  a  desire  to  possess  the  superiority  and  the 
advantages  which  we  see  another  possess,  that  leads  us 
to  envy  him  that  superiority,  and  those  advantages.  En- 
vy appears  not  to  be  a  simple  principle  ;  but  to  be  com- 
pounded of  a  desire  to  deprive  another  of  some  good 
which  he  possesses,  because  we  do  not  possess  the  same 
ourselves ;  and  a  hatred  of  that  other,  because  he  enjoys 
something  which  we  do  not.  The  connection  between 
emulation  and  envy,  therefore,  is  that  of  cause  and  effect. 
Emulation,  if  unsuccessful,  always  produces  envy ;  and 
of  course,  always  produces  hatred,  that  being  an  essen- 
tial ingredient  in  envy.  Sometimes  the  envy  that  is  pro- 
duced by  unsuccessful  competition,  is  small  in  degree 
and  transient  in  duration,  being  overcome  by  other  prin- 
ciples ;  and  sometimes  it  rises  into  anger  and  revenge,  or 


*  Buck's  Theological  Dictionary. 


152  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

settles  into  inveterate  hatred  and  malice.  Any  one  who 
has  employed  the  principle  of  emulation  in  the  education 
of  children,  must  have  had  opportunity  to  notice  these 
unhappy  effects. 

III.  I  now  proceed  to  distinguish  emulation  from  some 
other  principles^  which  are  virtuous,  or  at  least  innocent, 
and  with  which  it  has  been  sometimes  confounded. 

1.  Emulation  is  distinct  from  a  desire  to  make  great 
attainments  in  knowledge  and  virtue.  A  man  may  de- 
sire knowledge,  and  labor  assiduously  in  acquiring  it,  be- 
cause he  loves  it ;  because  every  new  idea  which  the 
mind  acquires,  is  a  source  of  pleasure,  and  because  he 
derives  a  satisfaction  from  the  exercise  of  his  mental 
faculties  in  acquiring  ideas,  and  in  afterwards  recollect- 
ing and  comparing  them.  All  this  is  innocent.  Again, 
he  may  desire  and  seek  knowledge  for  the  sake  of  be- 
coming more  useful  in  the  world, — of  promoting  the  hap^ 
piness  of  others  in  a  greater  degree.  This  is  a  virtuous 
motive.  In  the  same  manner,  a  man  may  desire  any  en- 
dowment whatever,  either  of  mind  or  body,  not  because 
it  will  render  him  superior  to  others,  but  because  it  is 
valuable  in  itself,  and  may  promote  his  own  or  the  pub- 
lic good. 

2.  Emulation  is  distinct  from  a  comparison  of  our- 
selves with  others  for  the  sake  of  judging  more  correct- 
ly what  progress  we  have  made  in  knowledge  and  im- 
provement, if  emulation  exists,  a  comparison  of  our- 
selves with  others  is  sure  to  fan  the  flame  ;  and  if  it  does 
not  yet  exist,  such  a  comparison  is  very  liable  to  enkin- 
dle it.  But  this  comparison  is  not  emulation  itself  j  and 
may  be  made  without  exciting  it.  Suppose  that  a  youth 
is  pursuing  his  studies,  actuated  by  a  desire  to  do  good. 
He  observes  that  he  makes  a  greater  progress  than  his 
fellow  students.     This  gives  him   pleasure,  not  because 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION.  15S 

he  excels  them,  but  because  his  prospect  of  being  useful 
in  the  world  is  brightened.  If,  however,  he  knows,  that 
their  object  in  obtaining  knowledge  is  the  same  as  his, 
and  reflects  that  their  inferiority  to  himself  in  talents 
and  proficiency  will  render  them  less  useful  than  they 
might  otherwise  be,  this  reflection  will  give  him  more 
pain,  than  he  will  derive  pleasure  from  the  prospect  of 
his  own  superior  usefulness.  After  all,  a  frequent  com- 
parison of  our  own  talents  and  attainments  with  those  of 
others,  is  a  dangerous  experiment ;  and  a  disposition  fre- 
quently to  make  such  a  comparison,  so  far  from  being 
consistent  with  upright  intentions,  is  an  almost  certain 
indication  of  a  spirit  of  emulation.  It  may  be  necessary 
that  a  person  should  compare  his  own  capacity  and  qual- 
ifications with  those  of  others,  in  considering  the  question 
in  what  station  or  calling  he  may  probably  be  most  useful 
in  society ;  but  after  he  has  determined  this  question,  a 
comparison  of  himself  with  others,  in  those  respects 
which  are  liable  to  excite  emulation  or  envy,  should  be, 
as  much  as  possible,  avoided. 

3.  Emulation  is  distinct  from  a  desire  to  do  much  good 
in  the  world.  Distinguished  activity  in  doing  good,  on 
however  large  a  scale,  or  in  however  conspicuous  a  sta- 
tion, may  spring  from  the  purest  benevolence,  and  is 
therefore  no  indication  of  a  spirit  of  emulation,  or  of  an 
ambitious  disposition.  A  man  who  thus  distinguishes 
himself,  is  not  to  be  called  ambitious,  unless  he  appears 
fond  of  being  known  to  be  eminently  useful,  and  gives 
evidence  of  a  love  of  fame  and  applause. 

4.  Emulation  is  distinct  from  a  desire  to  imitate  the 
virtuous  deeds  of  others,  and  to  resemble  them  in  virtuous 
traits  of  character.  Virtue  appears  more  amiable,  when 
i  t  is  exhibited  in  a  living  character,  and  when  its  happy 
fruits  are  actually  seen,  than  it  can  when  viewed  in  the 
abstract.     Whoever  loves  virtue,  therefore,  will  feel  a 


154?  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

Stronger  desire  to  possess  and  practise  it,  in  proportion  as 
his  perception  of  its  excellence  is  more  distinct  and  live- 
Ij.* — A  desire  to  resemble  and  imitate  the  wise  and 
good,  is  easily  distinguished  from  emulation,  because  it 
involves  no  desire  of  superiority.  This  virtuous  desire 
is  in  one  instance,  however,  spoken  of  in  scripture  under 
the  name  of  emulation  :  "  If  by  any  means  1  may  provoke 
to  emulation  them  that  are  my  flesh,  and  may  save  some 
of  them.'''t  Here,  to  "  provoke  to  emulation"  means,  to 
'  excite  to  imitation.'  Paul's  object  was,  to  '  excite'  his 
own  nation,  the  Jews,  to  '  imitate'  the  Gentiles  in  believ- 
ing in  Christ  and  obtaining  salvation.  It  seems  rather 
unfortunate  that  our  translators  should  have  made  choice 
of  the  word  '  emulation'  in  this  passage,  as  it  is  not  gen- 
erally used  in  this  sense  at  the  present  day,  and  as  they 
have  used  the  word  in  a  bad  sense  in  the  only  other  in- 
stance in  which  it  occurs  in  the  Bible.  See  Gal.  v.  20, 
where  ''  emulations"  are  classed  with  '^  hatred,  variance, 
wrath,  strife,  envyings,  murders,"  &c.  Here  emulation 
appears  in  its  proper  company. 

5.  Emulation  is  distinct  from  the  desire  of  having  a 
good  name,  and  enjoying  the  approbation  of  wise  and  good 
men.  A  good  name  is  to  be  desired  for  the  sake  of  in- 
creasing our  influence  and  our  usefulness  in  the  world. 
The  approbation  of  the  judicious  and  virtuous,  is  to 
be  desired  for  the  same  reason,  and  also  because  it 
assures  us  of  the  friendly  regard  of  those  whose  appro- 
bation we  enjoy.  There  is  an  innocent  and  a  lively  pleas- 
ure in  being  beloved  by  those  whom  we  love  ;  and  some 
degree  of  this  pleasure  is  felt  when  we  learn  that  we 
have  gained  the  approbation  of  good  men,  even  though 
no  personal  acquaintance  subsist  between  us  and  them. 


♦This  subject  is  happily  illustrated  by  Lord  Kames,  in  his  Elements  of 
Criticism.    See  Vol.  I.  p.  55,  on  the  *•  Sympathetic  Emotioa  of  Virtue." 
t  Rom.  xi.  14. 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION.  1^5 

This  is  a  totally  distinct  thing  from  the  love  of  praise, 
and  the  desire  of  admiration  and  applause.  By  a  '  love 
of  praise,'  I  mean  a  desire  of  commendation  for  the  sake 
of  the  gratification  it  affords  to  vanity  and  pride.  If  the 
pleasure  which  I  feel  when  another  says  something 
which  shows  that  he  has  a  high  opinion  of  me,  arises 
from  the  idea  that  the  good  qualities  which  he  ascribes 
to  me  will  render  me  more  useful,  or  from  the  evidence 
which  he  gives  of  personal  regard  for  me,  this  is  not  a 
love  of  praise  ;  but  if  it  arises  from  being  exalted  in  my 
own  estimation,  or  from  thinking  myself  superior  to  oth- 
ers, it  is  a  love  of  praise,  and  a  spirit  of  emulation. 

IV.  We  will  next  consider  the  influence  of  emulation  ofi 
the  public  welfare, 

1.  Since  emulation  is  a  selfish  principle,  and  inconsist- 
ent with  a  benevolent  spirit,  we  might  conclude,  without 
any  farther  examination,  that  it  cannot  have  a  beneficial 
tendency.  The  encouragement  of  emulation  cannot  fail 
to  strengthen  all  the  selfish  principles  of  our  nature.  Its 
connection  with  pride  and  vanity,  envy  and  hatred,  has 
been  already  shown.  That  all  the  selfish  and  malevolent 
principles  have  a  hurtful  tendenc}^,  needs  not  to  be  prov- 
ed. Perhaps  there  is  no  one  of  them  that  has  more  ap- 
pearance of  affording  an  innocent  gratification,  than  vani- 
ty. A  few  remarks  may  serve  to  show  the  real  nature 
and  tendency  of  this  passion.  The  vain  person  judges 
of  his  own  character  by  the  praises  and  flatteries  of  oth- 
ers. He  looks  not  into  his  own  heart,  nor  consults  the 
decisions  of  conscience,  which  is  the  only  safe  method  of 
obtaining  self-knowledge.  "  He  loves  the  praise  of  men 
more  than  the  praise  of  God."  If  he  judged  of  his  cha- 
racter by  the  proper  standard,  the  opinion  of  others 
would  have  no  effect  to  raise  him  in  his  own  estimation. 
Now,  this  frequent  contemplation  of  his  own  excellen- 


156  PRAGTICAL   ETHICS, 

cies,  makes  him  blind  to  the  excellencies  of  others,  and 
indifferent  to  their  welfare  and  happiness ;  and  this  erro- 
neous estimate  of  his  own  character,  unfits  him  for  filling 
his  proper  station  in  society,  unfits  him  for  usefulness, 
and  for  the  company  of  any  except  his  flatterers.  But 
he  cannot  avoid  mingling  with  the  world,  and  having  in- 
tercourse with  many  who  will  not  manifest  that  high 
opinion  of  his  excellencies,  which  he  considers  as  his 
due.  Hence  sentiments  of  aversion,  and  perhaps  of  ma- 
lice and  revenge,  arise  in  his  breast. — Such  are  the  fruits 
of  vanity,  apparently  the  most  harmless  of  all  the  selfish 
principles.  It  is  sufficiently  evident,  then,  that  emula- 
tion, which  is  one  of  the  strongest  of  these  principles, 
and  which  "  strengthens  all  the  rest,"  must  have  a  per- 
nicious influence  on  the  public  welfare. 

2.  Emulation  has,  in  some  respects,  an  »mfavorable 
influence  on  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and  the  im- 
provement of  the  mind.  In  order  that  a  student  may  un- 
derstand and  remember  what  he  learns,  he  must  love 
learning  for  its  own  sake.  And  he  that  studies  diligently, 
because  he  derives  pleasure  from  studying,  will  not, 
while  studying,  think  of  any  other  motive.  The  con- 
stant pleasure  he  derives  from  the  exercise  of  his  men- 
tal faculties  and  the  acquisition  of  new  ideas,  is  a  stimu- 
lus, that  makes  him  diligent  and  persevering,  that  leads 
him  to  understand  thoroughly  whatever  he  studies,  and 
that  impresses  indelibly  on  his  memory  whatever  he 
learns.  But  emulation  affords  a  motive,  and  proposes  a 
pleasure,  wholly  different  from  this.  This  pleasure  is  the 
reward  to  which  he  looks  forward  as  the  fruit  of  his  ap- 
plication. Just  so  far,  then,  as  the  mind  dwells  on  this  ob- 
ject, it  is  withdrawn  from  its  present  employment.  And 
just  so  far  as  the  desire  of  excelling  others  has  a  plsce  in 
the  breast,  it  excludes  the  love  of  study  for  its  own  sake. 
if  the  scholar,   while  studying,  is  constantly  calculating 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION.  157 

how  far  he  has  got,   and  how  far  he  can  get,  and  antici- 
pating a  triumph  over  his  rivals,  or  fearing    that    they 
will  triumph  over  him,  it  is  next  to  an  impossibility  that 
he  should  get  his   lesson   well,  or   should  remember   it 
long.     His  object  is,  to  get  such  a  quantity^  to  go  over  so 
many  pages  ;  and  if  he  can  recite  it  so  as  to  satisfy  the 
instructer  at  the  time,  it  is  all  he  cares  for.     He  exercis- 
es his  memory  merely,  while  studying,  with  very  little 
or  no  improvement  of  his  judgment  or  discriminations- 
He  recites  the  lesson  at  the  slated  hour,  and  then  applies 
himself  again  to  make   farther  attainments  of  the  same 
kind,  thinking  nothing  more  of  the  former  lesson,  and  to- 
tally indifferent   whether  he   ever  thinks  of  it  again.     I 
do  not  mean,  that  this  is  precisely  the  case  with  every 
student,  who  is  influenced  by  the  principle  of  emulation. 
In  schools  and  other  literary  institutions,  where  the  stu- 
dents are  critically  examined,  quarterly  or  annually,  up- 
on what  they  have  been  over,  the  evil  is  in  some  meas- 
ure counteracted.     And  there  are  some  instructers  who 
require  their  pupils  to  recite  their  lessons,  not  so  much 
verbatim,  as  in  a  manner  which  shall  give  evidence  that 
they  understand  them, — which  is  a  powerful   antidote  to 
the  influence  of  emulation.     But  neither  these,  nor  any 
means  that  can  be  used,  will  wholly  obviate  the  unfavorable 
influence  of  emulation  on  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and 
the  improvement  of  the  mind.     Besides,  those  instructers 
who  encourage  emulation  in  their  pupils,  are  generally 
deterred  from  requiring  them  to  understand  what   they 
learn,  because  they  perceive  that  it  diminishes  the  quantity 
of  their  lessons,  damps  their  ardor,  and  checks  the  rapidity 
of  their  course  toward  the  goal  of  ambition.     And  though 
we  admit,  that  the  stimulus  which  emulation  aftbrds,  may 
really  accelerate    the  progress   of   some   individuals  in 
knowledge   and  in  mental  improvement,  yet  it  is  thought 
that  in  a  majority  of  cases,  the  proficiency  of  the  scholar 


168  PRACTICAL    ETHICS, 

is  rather  retarded  than  accelerated  by  this  principl«« 
This  will  be  the  more  evident,  when  we  consider,  lat 
the  successful  votaries  of  emulation  must  be  comparative- 
ly few.  The  rapid  progress,  the  high  spirits,  the  triumph- 
ant exultation,  of  these  few,  and  the  distinctions  and  hon- 
ors bestowed  upon  them,  operate  as  a  discouragement  to 
the  many,  who  are  left  behind  in  the  race.  While  the 
forward  are  too  much  elated,  the  slow  despond.  The 
vse  of  emulation  as  a  stimulus  to  literary  and  scientific 
improvement,  would  be  more  plausible,  if  all,  or  most, 
could  have  a  hope  of  success  in  the  contest  for  superior- 
ity ;  though,  even  then,  the  considerations  which  have 
been  suggested,  might  render  it  doubtful  whether  the 
progress  in  real  knowledge  and  in  real  mental  improve- 
ment, would  be  accelerated. 

3.  Emulation  has  a  dangerous  influence  on  the  charac- 
ter of  men  when  they  come  to  act  on  the  theatre  of  the 
world.  Few,  1  think,  will  deny  the  proposition,  that  the 
ambitious  and  aspiring  are  dangerous  members  of  socie- 
ty. Those,  whose  supreme  object  is  personal  aggran- 
dizement, will,  without  hesitation,  sacrifice  any  interest, 
however  great,  that  comes  in  competition  with  their 
own.  They  will  trample  on  the  rights  of  others,  when- 
ever they  interfere  with  their  ambitious  views.  The 
destructive  consequences  of  ambition  in  statesmen  and 
warriors  are  so  well  known,  and  have  so  often  been  the 
theme  of  declamation,  that  it  is  needless  to  dwell  on  the 
^  subject  here.  Let  it  be  remembered,  that  this  same  am- 
bition, which  has  so  often  trampled  on  the  rights  of  man- 
kind, which  has  reduced  millions  of  freemen  to  the 
condition  of  slaves,  which  has  shed  so  much  blood, 
auii  sacrificed  so  many  lives,  is  only  the  principle 
Oi  emulation  acting  upon  a  larger  scale.  The  child, 
in  whose  breast  this  principle  is  cherished,  is  pre-; 
paring,  if  circumstances   should  afford   him  the  oppor- 


EMULATION    A^D    AMBITION.  169 

tunitjr,  to  be  numbered  among  the  scourges  of  man- 
kii'li.  ^^  Happily,  few  have  the  opportunity  of  seeking 
an  immortality  of  fame  in  this  way.  The  principles  of 
government  and  of  liberty  are  so  well  understood,  and 
civil  institutions  are  so  firmly  established,  that  the  prin- 
ciple of  ambition  finds  itself  restrained,  and  there  is  lit- 
tle reason  to  apprehend  that  the  "  love  of  glory"  will 
again  produce  scenes  of  carnage,  or  that  the  examples  of 
former  heroes  and  conquerors  will  ever  be  successfully 
imitated. — But  is  no  evil  to  be  apprehended  from  a  prin- 
ciple which  possesses  such  a  tendency  ?  Some  of  the 
vices  that  are  connected  with  this  principle,  have  been 
already  brought  into  view.  *'  It  produces  pride  and  van- 
ity, envy,  hatred,  and  slander.  It  is  opposed  to  real  no- 
bleness, and  independence,  and  decision  of  character. 
With  him  that  eagerly  covets  praise,  fame  is  virtue,  and 
ignominy  vice.  The  sense  of  duty  is  destroyed  by  an  in- 
ordinate love  of  an  empty  glory."*  And  though  emula- 
tion is  a  stimulus  to  exertion  at  school  and  at  college,  yet 
it  is  probable,  that  in  most  cases,  this  effect  is  afterwards 
reversed.  "  The  unsuccessful  votaries  of  emulation  are 
always  discouraged  at  the  time,  and,  in  some  instances, 
i^ined  and  dispirited  for  life  ;"t  and  few  of  her  successful 
votaries  continue  to  receive  those  distinctions  and  honors 
which  they  received  at  school  or  college ;  and  when 
the  artificial  stimulus  ceases,  exertion  will  also  cease, 

V.  It  may  be  proper  briefly  to  mention  some  of  the 
means  by  which  emulation  is  usually  excited  and  encouraged. 
This  is  done, 

1.  By  making  comparisons  between  one  individual  and 
another.     It  is  a  common  practice  with  instructers  to^<»ll 


•  See  an  excellent  essay  on  "  Ambition,"  ia  the  Christian  Obserrcr; 
for  August,  1818.  f  Ibid. 


160  PRA€TICAL   ETHICS. 

a  particular  scholar  thai  he  learns  better  than  another, 
calling  the  other  by  name ;  or  that  there  are  only  so  ma- 
ny in  the  school  that  learn  as  well  as  he.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  dull  scholar  is  sometimes  told  how  much  better 
this  or  that  schoolmate  studies  and  learns  than  he  does. 
The  influence  of  such  remarks,  both  upon  those  to  whom 
they  are  addressed  and  upon  others  by  whom  they  are 
heard,  is  obvious.  But  the  most  powerful  means  of  ex- 
citing emulation,  is, 

2.  By  marks  of  distinction  and  honor.  These  are,  in 
common  schools,  the  having  a  "  head"  to  every  class  ; 
the  giving  to  those  who  keep  at  the  head  a  certain 
length  of  time,  "  certificates"  of  approbation,  or  insig- 
nia of  honor  to  be  carried  home,  perhaps  suspended  from 
the  neck  ;  and  publicly  bestowing  rewards  on  the  indi- 
viduals who  have  distinguished  themselves.  The  effect 
of  these  marks  of  distinction  and  honor  is  greatly  increas- 
ed by  the  commendations  which  are  bestowed  on  those 
who  obtain  them,  and  the  cold  neglect,  and  sometimes 
censure,  suftered  by  those  who  do  not.  The  child  who 
holds  the  precedence  in  his  class,  is  generally  praised, 
flattered,  and  caressed,  by  his  parents  and  others,  on  ac- 
count of  it.  And  to  make  the  matter  still  worse,  these 
honors  and  caresses  are  usually  obtained,  not  by  superior 
assiduity,  but  merely  by  being  able  to  learn  with  greater 
facility. 

In  academies  and  colleges,  the  same  systematic  excite- 
ment of  the  principle  of  emulation,  is  eflected  by  mean* 
of  medals  and  premiums,  and  especially  by  the  "grades" 
of  honor  and  the  assignment  of  "  parts"  on  public  occa- 
sions. The  powerful  influence  of  these  things  is  well 
known,  if  not  by  the  superior  improvement  of  the 
students,  at  least  by  the  contentions  and  commotions 
which  are  in  this  way  produced.  It  is  probable  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  frequent,  and  sometimes  serious,  di?- 


EMULATION    AND   AMBITION.  161 

lurbances,  which  have  arisen  among  students  at  college, 
€(nd  between  them  and  their  instructers,  have  been  owing 
to  this  cause. — But  perhaps  this  is  a  digression.  It  may 
serve,  however,  to  show  the  efficacy  of  the  means  which 
are  employed  in  literary  institutions  to  excite  a  spirit  of 
emulation. 

3.  The  principle  of  emulation  is  strengthened  by  clas- 
sical studies.  Among  the  books  which  are  denominated 
classical,  there  is,  perhaps,  not  one,  ancient  or  modern, 
in  which  this  principle  is  condemned  or  discountenanced. 
On  the  contrary,  wherever  opportunity  is  afforded,  the 
author  or  his  hero,  breathes  a  spirit  of  emulation  and  of 
ambition,  which  the  student  easily  and  unconsciously  im- 
bibes.— But  instead  of  saying  more  on  this  subject,  I 
choose  rather  to  refer  to  a  writer,  who  has  done  much 
for  the  cause  of  religion  and  of  human  improvement. 
See  Foster's  Essays,  Essay  iV.  Letters  5  and  6,  "  On  the 
Unchristian  Tendency  of  Classical  Literature." 

VI.  1  now  proceed  to  mention  some  means  which  may 
be  employed  to  stimulate  the  student  without  the  aid  of  emu- 
lation. 

The  view  that  has  been  taken  of  the  subject,  shows, 
that  if  youth  can  be  sufficiently  stimulated  in  their  stu- 
dies without  the  aid  of  emulation,  such  a  thing  is  very 
desirable.  To  give  a  detail  of  the  means  by  which  this 
object  may  be  effected,  would  require  a  treatise  on 
education,  and  would  be  out  of  place  in  a  system  of  mo- 
ral philosophy.  Brevity,  therefore,  will  be  consulted  in 
the  remarks  that  follow. 

L  The  importance  of  knowledge  and  mental  improve- 
ment  as  qualifications  for  respectability,  usefidness,  and 
happiness  ^n  future  life,  is  a  consideration  that  may  have 
much  influence  with  students  who  are  capable  of  reflec- 
tion. I  do  not  mean  that  it  can  afford  any  stimulus  while 
o^ 


iSi  PRACTICAL    BtHlCS. 

the  scholar  is  actually  engaged  in  studying ; — it  would 
then,  like  motives  of  emulation,  only  serve  to  divert  the 
mind  ;-— but  it  may  contribute,  sometimes,  to  prepare  the 
mind  for  study,  and  it  may  induce  the  scholar  to  spend 
more  hours  in  studying  than  he  otherwise  would. 

2.  A  desire  to  gain  the  approbation  of  the  instructer, 
of  parents,  and  friends,  is  a  more  powerful  motive  of  the 
same  kind.  It  ought  not  to  be  thought  of  while  the  scho- 
lar is  actually  studying  ;  but  it  may  induce  him  to  be  more 
economical  of  his  time,  may  associate  some  pleasing 
ideas  with  the  thought  of  taking  up  the  book  to  get  a 
lesson,  and,  in  the  intervals  of  study,  when  the  mind  is 
wearied,  may  produce  an  excitement  which  will  prepare 
it  for  renewed  application.  Some  caution,  however,  is 
necessary,  in  regard  to  the  manner  in  which  the  appro- 
bation of  instructers,  parents,  and  friends,  is  to  be  ex- 
pressed. Praise  should  be  sparingly  bestowed  on  child- 
ren. If  it  is  lavished  on  them,  it  becomes  cheap,  and 
loses  its  effect.  As  to  telling  them  that  they  have  done 
better  than  others,  that  is  out  of  the  question.  But  they 
may  be  told  that  they  have  done  well^  or  that  they  have 
done  better  than  they  have  been  accustomed  to  do.  They 
may  also  be  told,  when  the  case  requires  it,  that  they 
have  done  ill^  not  so  well  as  they  mighty  or  not  so  well  as 
usual  For  the  most  part,  however,  the  countenance  of 
the  instructer  will  express  sufficient  praise  or  censure, 
without  the  aid  of  words.  If  he  loves  to  teach,  and  to 
see  his  scholars  do  well,  they  will  readily  perceive  his 
feelings,  and  the  liveliest  emotions  will  be  excited  in 
their  breasts.  The  pleasure  which  a  good  scholar 
feels  when  he  sees  the  smile  of  approbation,  is  in- 
nocent,— so  long  as  the  principle  of  emulation  is  ex- 
cluded. There  is  need  of  caution,  lest  the  smile  of  ap- 
probation should  be  so  bestowed  as  to  betray  partiality 
toward  individuals ;  but   I  am  not   aware  that  there  Is 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION.  163 

much  danger  of  exciting  a  spirit  of  emulation,  merely  by 
comparing  a  scholar  with  himself,  by  telling  him  that  he 
has  recited  this  lesson  better  or  worse  than  he  did  the 
last.  The  desire  which  a  child  feels  to  please  his  in- 
structer,  and  the  pleasure  he  feels  when  he  perceives 
that  he  does  please  him,  are  innocent,  while  they  spring 
from  esteem  and  affection.  It  is  the  pleasure  of  being 
beloved  by  those  whom  we  love,  and  of  contributing  to 
their  happiness.  And  an  instructer,  who  is  beloved  by 
his  pupils,  and  who  loves  to  see  them  increasing  in  knowl- 
edge, has  little  need  to  fear  that  they  will  not  be  diligent 
in  their  studies. 

3.  But  a  love  of  learning  for  its  own  sake,  is  the  most 
powerful  stimulus  which  a  student  can  feel,  to  assist  his 
progress  in  real  knowledge  and  improvement.  This  is  a 
motive,  that  will  not  only  draw  him  from  amusement  or 
other  employments  to  his  studies,  but  will  operate  pow- 
erfully, while  he  is  studying,  to  produce  intense  applica- 
tion and  unwearied  perseverance.  The  scholar,  who 
derives  a  lively  pleasure  from  the  acquisition  of  new 
ideas,  and  the  exercise  of  his  mental  powers,  will  be  far 
more  likely  to  understand  thoroughly  whatever  he  learns; 
will  find  the  new  ideas  he  has  acquired,  frequently  re- 
volving in  his  mind  afterwards,  from  day  to  day  ;  and  will 
retain  them  in  his  memory,  ready  for  use  whenever  oc- 
casion may  require. 

'  But  how  shall  this  love  of  learning  for  its  own  sake, 
be  produced  in  scholars  who  are  destitute  of  it,  or  who 
have  even  an  aversion  to  their  books?' — I  feel  little  hesi- 
tation in  asserting,  that  no  such  scholar  ever  existed,  until 
he  had  been  brought  to  feel  this  indifference  or  aversion 
by  injudicious  treatment  on  the  part  of  parents  or  instruc- 
ters.  Perhaps  the  truth  of  this  assertion  will  be  doubted 
by  those  who  have  not  attended  to  the  manner  in  which 
associations  of  ideas  and  feelings  are  formed.     Such  are 


164  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

requested  to  suspend  their  opinion,  till  they  have  studied 
the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind  and  the  science  of 
education.*  In  the  mean  time,  it  may  be  well  for  them 
to  act  on  the  supposition  that  my  sentiment  is  correct. 
What  I  would  maintain,  is,  that  if  parents  and  instructers 
love  knowledge  for  its  own  sake,  and  always  speak  of  study 
as  a  privilege  and  a  source  of  pleasure,  children  will  be 
prepossessed  in  favor  of  it  before  they  begin ;  and  that  if 
they  at  school  receive  easy  lessons,  and  such  as  they  can 
understand,  if  the  lessons  are  explained  to  them  in  lan- 
guage adapted  to  their  capacity,  and  if  such  questions  are 
asked  as  will  bring  other  faculties  of  the  mind,  as  well  as 
memory,  into  exercise,  they  will  find  study  to  be  pleasant, 
as  they  anticipated.  The  human  mind  is  so  constituted, 
that  the  voluntary  exercise  of  its  faculties,  and  the  acqui- 
sition and  comparison  of  ideas,  are  sources  of  pleasure, 
independent  of  every  other  consideration  ;  and  this  pleas- 
ure will  always  be  felt,  except  when  the  mind  is  called 
away,  reluctantly,  from  some  more  pleasing  employment, 
to  attend  to  new  ideas, — or  when  those  ideas  are  pre- 
sented to  it  in  such  a  manner  or  under  such  circumstances, 
as  to  be  connected  with  other  ideas  of  a  disagreeable 
nature, — or  when  it  is  fatigued  with  too  intense  or  too 
long  application.  If  parents  and  instructers  expect  that 
study  will  be  a  disagreeable  task  to  children,  they  will 
inevitably  do  and  say  things,  which  will  produce  associa- 
tions in  the  minds  of  the  children,  that  will  prepossess 
them  against  study,  and  thus  render  it  indeed  disagreea- 
ble. But  it  they  expect  it  to  be  pleasant  to  them,  this 
expectation  will  lead  them  to  present  the  subject  to  them 
in  a  light  which  will  prepare  them  to  find  it  so. — In  a 
case  where  children  have  already  formed  unfavorable 
associations,  or  where  parents  and  others  counteract  the 


*See,  for  instance,  Hamilton  and  Edgeworth  on  Education;  and  Stew- 
art on  the  Mind. 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION.  165 

impression  ^vhich  the  instructer  wishes  to  make,  he  may, 
by  well  directed  efforts,  notwithstanding  these  discourage- 
ments, generally  meet  with  such  a  degree  of  success,  as 
will  confirm  his  conviction  of  the  correctness  of  his  theo- 
ry, and  enable  him  to  see  how  much  might  be  effected, 
if  the  obstacles,  with  which  he  struggles,  were  removed. 
In  order  to  make  improvements  in  the  method  of  teach- 
ing, or  to  adopt  those  improvements  when  made  by  oth- 
ers, an  acquaintance  with  intellectual  philosophy  seems 
indispensable.  The  ideas  which  are  acquired  by  the 
human  mind,  may  be  divided  into  two  classes;  those 
which  have  a  relation  to  something  which  is  already  fa- 
miliar to  the  mind,  and  those  which  have  not.  Ideas  of 
the  latter  kind  are  acquired  in  learning  the  alphabet,  and 
in  learning  to  read  words  which  have  either  no  meaning, 
or  none  that  is  perceived  by  the  child.  In  doing  this,  he 
acquires  merely  insulated  ideas  of  characters  presented  to 
the  eye,  or  of  sounds  addressed  to  the  ear.  The  pleasure, 
however,  which  is  felt  in  acquiring  such  ideas,  may  be 
very  great,  in  consequence  of  the  novelty  of  those  char- 
acters and  sounds,  and  the  strong  curiosity  which  a  young 
child  possesses.  But  afterwards,  when  he  has  learned  to 
read  with  some  fluency,  and  reads  what  he  does  not  un^ 
derstand,  he  acquires  no  new  ideas  ;  and  the  chief  source 
of  pleasure  which  he  finds,  is  in  exercising  his  skill  m 
pronouncing  correctly  the  words  that  meet  his  eye.  This 
exercise  of  skill,  too,  will  soon  become  familiar  ;  and,  the 
charm  of  novelty  being  gone,  the  child,  if  he  continues 
to  read  what  he  does  not  understand,  will  inevitably  lose 
the  interest  which  he  felt  in  his  book.  The  only  way, 
therefore,  to  avoid  this  result,  is  to  have  the  child,  as  soon 
as  he  begins  to  read  words  arranged  in  sentences,  read 
such  sentences  as  he  can  understand.  If  the  verbal  signs 
suggest  to  him  the  things  which  are  signified,  and  espe- 
cially if  he  finds  new  ideas,  or  new  combinations  of  ideas, 


166  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

upon  subjects  that  are  already  familiar  to  his  mind,  the 
charm  of  novelty  will  be  revived,  and  the  book  will 
continue  to  be  a  source  of  undiminished  pleasure.  And 
the  greater  previous  interest  he  felt  in  those  subjects  with 
which  these  new  ideas  are  connected,  the  greater  pleas- 
ure will  the  acquisition  of  the  new  ideas  afford.  Hence, 
it  is  an  object  of  primary  importance,  in  teaching  chil- 
dren and  youth,  to  have  them  read  only  such  things  as 
they  can  understand,  either  by  their  own  reflections,  or 
by  the  aid  of  the  teacher's  explanations ;  and,  in  present- 
ing new  subjects  or  new  ideas  to  their  minds,  to  do  it  in 
such  a  manner,  that  they  shall  perceive  some  relations 
between  these  and  ideas  that  were  before  familiar  to  them  ; 
and,  if  possible,  in  such  a  manner,  that  these  relations 
shall  be  suited  to  interest  and  please  them. 

When  1  insist  that  the  child  ought  to  understand  every- 
thing which  he  reads,  I  do  not  mean,  that  he  must  be  able 
to  answer  every  question  that  can  be  asked  respecting  the 
words  and  sentences  which  he  reads,  for  of  this  the  most 
learned  adult  is  not  capable  ;  nor  even  that  those  words 
and  sentences  shall  suggest  to  him  all  the  ideas  with  which 
they  were  connected  in  the  mind  of  the  author;  but,  that 
he  shall  perceive  the  most  important  ideas  intended  to  be 
conveyed  by  every  word  and  by  every  sentence.  And  this 
comprehends  much  more  than  an  ability  to  define  every 
word  according  to  the  dictionary.  It  comprehends  a  per^ 
ception  of  the  principal  relations  which  subsist  between  the 
different  parts  of  a  sentence,  between  the  different  parts  of 
a  paragraph  or  chapter,  and  between  the  ideas  conveyed 
by  the  author  and  those  previously  acquired  by  the  child. 

In  order  to  teach  in  perfect  consistency  with  these  prin- 
ciples, a  system  of  school  books,  modelled  on  a  new  plan 
would  be  necessary  ;  and  we  may  venture  to  predict,  that 
the  progress  of  improvement  in  education  will  in  time 
lead  to  the  formation  and  adoption  of  such  a  system ;  but 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION,  167 

the  instructer,  who  understands  the  subject,  may  do  much, 
as  it  is,  by  way  of  approximation  to  a  perfect  method  of 
teaching. 

The  method  of  Pestalozzi  appears  to  be  very  much 
such  a  one  as  I  have  anticipated.  Let  this  be  universally 
adopted  in  the  instruction  and  government  of  schools,  and 
teachers  will  have  little  occasion  to  complain  of  aver- 
sion, indifference,  or  dulness  in  their  pupils.  I  would 
fain  transcribe  the  interesting  account  of  Pestalozzi's 
school,  given  by  Madame  de  Stael  in  her  "  Germany  ;" 
but  I  suspect  that  I  have  already  digressed  sufficiently 
from  the  topics  which  directly  belong  to  the  general  sub- 
ject of  this  volume.  "  It  is  a  remarkable  cirumstance," 
says  she,  "  that  neither  punishment  nor  reward  is  neces- 
sary to  excite  his  pupils  in  their  labors.  This  is,  per- 
haps, the  first  instance,  in  which  a  school  of  one  hundred 
and  Mty  children  has  succeeded  without  having  recourse 
to  the  principles  of  emulation  and  of  fear.  How  many 
bad  feelings  are  spared,  when  every  emotion  of  jealousy 
and  disappointed  ambition  is  removed  from  the  heart; 
and  when  the  child  sees  not,  in  his  companions,  rivals, 
n©r  in  his  teacher,  a  judge  !.  ..There,  the  object  is,  not 
to  excel,  not  to  succeed  in  a  competition  for  superiority, 
but  to  make  a  progress,  to  advance  toward  an  end  at 
which  they  all  aim  with  equal  integrity  and  simplicity  of 
intention."* 


*  Une  chose  remarquable,  c*est  que  la  punition  ni  la  recompense  ne 
sont  point  nccessaiies  pour  les  exciter  dans  leurs  travaux.  C*est  peut- 
€itre  la  premiere  fois  qu*  une  ecole  de  cent  cinqnante  cnfans  va  sans  Ic 
ressort  de  I'emulation  et  de  la  craintc.  Combieu  de  mauvais  sentimens 
sont  epargnes  a  Thomme,  quand  on  eloigne  de  son  caeur  la  jalousie  et  Thu- 
miliation,  quand  il  re  voit  point  dans  ses  camarades  des  rivaux,  ni  dans 
ses  maitres  des  jugcs  !....I1  ne  s'agii  pis  la  de  succes,  mais  de  progres  rers 
"un  but  auquel  tous  tendent  avec  une  nieme  bonne  foi. — De  UAUtmagnt, 
Tomii  J.  Chap.  19. 


168  PRACTICAL    ETHieS. 

VII.  Concluding  remarks, 

1.  Emulation^  in  every  degree  and  in  every  form,  is 
eAminal^  and  ought  never  to  have  a  place  in  the  breast. 
This  is  evident  from  what  has  already  been  said ;  but 
the  importance  of  the  subject  will  justify  us  in  bringing 
it  more  distinctly  into  view, 

Emulation  is  a  selfish  principle ;  and  is  inconsistent 
with  the  exercise  of  pure  and  universal  benevolence.  If 
it  were  an  innocent  or  a  benevolent  principle,  a  failure  of 
success  in  striving  to  excel,  would  not  produce  envy  and 
hatred.  It  is  right  to  desire  and  seek  our  own  happiness  ; 
but  it  is  not  right  to  do  this  with  feelings  which  can  pre- 
vent us  from  rejoicing  in  the  happiness  of  others,  even 
when  they  are  more  successful  and  more  happy  than  our- 
selves. That  emulation  is  inconsistent  with  benevolence, 
is  a  proposition  which  is  capable  of  demonstration.  Sup- 
pose that  a  man  occupies  a  certain  station,  in  respect  to 
talents,  knowledge,  reputation,  and  usefulness.  To  see 
pthers  inferior  to  him  in  these  respects,  gives  a  pleas- 
jure,  which  ceases  as  soon  as  they  are  raised  to  an 
.equality  with  him,  and  is  converted  into  pain  as  soon  as 
they  are  raised  above  him, — although  his  own  station, 
all  the  while,  remains  the  same.  The  pleasure  arises 
from  seeing  others  destitute  of  a  good  which  he  enjoys ; 
ceases  as  soon  as  the  same  blessings  which  he  enjoys  are 
enjoyed  by  them  ;  and  is  succeeded  by  envy  and  hatred, 
as  soon  as  additional  blessings  are  bes^towed  upon  them^ — 
although  his  own  talents,  knowledge,  reputation,  and  use- 
fulness, are  as  great  as  ever  they  were.  Now  it  is  evi- 
dent, that  the  feelings  produced  by  a  benevolent  spirit, 
are  just  the  reverse  of  all  this,  at  every  step  of  the  pro- 
gress. The  benevolent  man  feels  his  happiness  dimin- 
ished on  seeing  others  deprived  of  blessings  which  he 
enjoys;  rejoices,  when  he  sees  the  same  blessings  be- 
stowed upon  them  ;  and  rejoices  still  more,  when  he  sees 
their  happiness  and  usefulness  still  more  increased. 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION.  169 

%  Since  the  words  '  emulation,'  and  '  ambition,'  in  the 
sense  in  which  they  are  commonly  used,  denote  a  prin- 
ciple of  action  which  is  unlawful  and  criminal,  they 
ought  not  to  be  used  in  other  and  diflerent  senses.  To 
use  the  same  word  sometimes  in  a  bad  and  sometimes  in 
a  good  sense,  has  a  dangerous  tendency.  On  account  of 
the  imperfection  of  language,  indeed,  this  cannot  always 
be  avoided  ;  but  so  far  as  it  can  be  avoided,  it  should  be. 
if  the  more  virtuous  part  of  the  community  use  certain 
words  in  a  good  sense  which  others  use  in  a  bad  sense, 
the  opinion  of  the  former  will  be  considered  as  counte- 
nancing the  criminal  sentiments  and  practices  of  the  lat- 
ter. The  frequent  recurrence  of  such  phrases  as  "  noble 
emulation,"  '^  laudable  pride,"  is  an  outrage  on  propriety 
of  language,  and  has  a  most  pernicious  tendency.  Ad- 
mitting that  those  who  use  iheva  mean  well ;  yet  many, 
who  hear  or  read  them,  will  understand  them  in  a  sense 
which  will  tend  to  corrupt  their  moral  principles.  This 
way  of  using  words,  may  be  considered  as  a  species  of 
bad  example.  It  wears  the  "  appearance  of  evil."  It 
makes  a  man  appear  to  be  the  advocate  of  vice.  And 
even  if  the  good  man  is  understood  as  he  means,  when 
he  commends  something  which  is  really  laudable,  under 
the  name  of  emulation,  ambition,  or  pride  ;  yet  those  who 
seek  a  cloak  for  their  sins,  will  pervert  this  language  in 
order  to  justify  themselves,  and  will  rejoice  in  the  oppor- 
tunity of  indulging  the  most  unhallowed  passions  under 
these  specious  names.  "  it  is  no  small  thing,"  says  Ma- 
dame de  Stael,  "for  men  to  have  plausible  language 
which  they  may  use  in  favor  of  their  conduct.  They 
employ  it,  at  first,  to  deceive  others ;  and  they  end  by 
deceiving  themselves."*     1  therefore,  as  a  friend  to  the 


*  C'est  beaucoup  pour  les  hommes  d'avoir  des  phrases  d  dire  en  faveur 
de  leur   conduite:  ils  s'en  servant  d'aboid  pour  tromper  les  autres,  et 
fihissent  par  se  tromper  euxmemes.— 2?e  UAUemchgne,  Tome  III.  p.  206. 
P 


Iff  .^i^     PRACTICAL   ETHICS. 

cause  of  virtue,  protest  against  the  terms  '  emulation'  and 
'  ambition'  ever  being  used  lo  expiess  any  thing  which  is 
laudable  or  innocent. 

3.  Since  emulation  is  criminal,  it  ought  not  to  be  en- 
couraged, but  discountenanced,  in  children  and  youth.  It  is 
said,  'that  as  scholars  who  are  not  pious,  have  no  better 
principles  of  action,  we  must  make  use  of  such  principles 
as  they  have;  and  that  a  spirit  of  emulation  will  exist 
among  them,  whether  it  is  encouraged  or  not." — 1  admit, 
that  scholars  who  are  not  pious,  and  even  those  who  are, 
are  actuated  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  by  wrong  motives 
in  pursuing  their  studies ;  but  it  is  one  thing  for  them  to  be 
actuated  by  wrong  motives  in  studying,  and  another  for 
instructers  directly  to  influence  them,  and  expressly  to 
encourage  them,  to  act  from  such  motives. — 1  admit,  too, 
that  the  principle  of  emulation  cannot  be  wholly  eradi- 
cated from  the  breasts  of  the  young.  It  is  just  as  natural 
as  human  depravity  ;  and  peihaps  it  is  as  impossiblo  whol- 
ly to  prevent  it  from  being  excited  in  a  school,  as  to 
make  all  the  scholars  perfectly  holy.  But  this,  so  far 
from  being  a  reason  why  it  should  be  encouraged  and 
strengthened,  is  the  very  reason  why  we  should  be  soli- 
citous to  restrain  its  operation,  and  guard  against  its  ex- 
citement. 

But  it  is  said  '  that  scholars  who  are  not  pious,  have  no 
better  principles  of  action,  and  they  must  be  excited,  in 
some  way,  lo  diligence  ami  assiduity  in  their  studies.' — 
Whether  they  have  better  principles  of  action  or  not, 
they  certainly  have  those  that  are  not  so  bad.  The  de- 
sire to  promote  their  own  future  respectability  and  hap- 
piness, and  the  desire  to  please  their  instructers  and  pa- 
rents, are  not  so  bad  principles  of  action.  They  are  not 
necessarily  criminal  at  all ;  and  if  sometimes  so,  are  less 
so,  and  les^  dangerous,  than  motives  of  emulation.  The 
love  of  learning  for  its  own  sake,  is  not  so  bad  a  principle 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION.  171 

of  action.  This  is  a  most  powerful  stimulus ;  and  not 
being  of  a  moral  nature,  is  of  course  an  innocent  motive. 
Here  are  principles  of  action,  amply  sufficient  to  stimu- 
late every  scholar  in  his  studies  without  the  aid  of  emu*' 
lation. — But  this  is  denied,  and  it  is  said  '  that  scholars, 
without  the  impulse  of  emulation,  will  sink  into  a  state 
of  apathy  and  inaction.'  Those  who  think  thus,  are  re- 
quested to  make  a  lair  experiment.  When  they  have 
done  this,  if  they  still  think  that  the  principles  of  action 
which  I  have  recommended  are  not  sufficient,  that  schol- 
ars would  make  much  greater  progress  if  excited  by  em- 
ulation, and  even  that  their  progress  must  be  very  small 
without  this  excitement,  1  will  then  request  them  to  tell 
me  how  much  intellecual  improvement  we  must  put  into 
the  scale  to  weigh  against  the  moral  evil  of  emulation, 
with  its  attendant  train,  vanity  and  pride,  envy,  hatred, 
and  slander.  The  following  is  the  language  of  Cowper 
on  this  subject.     He  is  speaking  of  public  schools : 

♦'  A  principle,  whose  proud  pretensions  pass 
Unquestioned,  though  the  jewel  be  but  glass — 
That,  with  a  world,  not  often  over-nice, 
Ranks  as  a  virtue,  and  is  yet  a  vice ; 
Of  rather  a  gross  compoundv — ^justlj  tried;— 
Of  envy,  hatred,  jealousy, and  pride — 
Contributes  most,  perhaps,  to  enhance  their  fame; 
And  Emulation  is  its  specious  name. 
Boys,  once  on  fire  with  that  contentious  zeal, 
Feel  all  the  rage  that  female  rivals  feel; 
The  prize  of  beauty,  in  a  woman's  eyes, 
Not  brighter,  than  in  theirs  the  scholar's  prize. 
The  spirit  (»f  that  compeiitiou  burns 
Witli  all  varieties  ot  ill  by  turns: 
Each  vainly  magnifies  his  own  success; 
Resents  his  fellow's  ;  wishfcs  it  were  less; 
Exults  in  his  miscarriage,  if  he  fail; 
Deems  his  tevvaid  too  great,  if  he  prevail. 
The  spur  is  powevfu^,  an»i  I  grant  its  force: 
It  pricks  tije  genius  forward  in  its  course  ; 
Allows  snort  time  lor  play;  and  none  for  sloth  ; 


tfi  PRACTICAL    ETHIG5* 

And;  felt  alike  by  each,  advances  both. 

But  judge,  where  so  much  evil  intervenes;  ^,fW 

The  end,  though  plausible,  not  worth  the  meant 

Weigh,  for  a  moment,  classical  desert 

Against  a  heart  depraved  and  temper  hurt ; 

Hurt,  too,  perhaps,  for  life  ;  for  early  wrong, 

Done  to  the  nobler  part,  affects  it  long; — 

And  you  are  stanch  indeed  in  learning's  cause, 

If  you  can  crown  a  discipline,  that  draws 

Such  mischiefs  after  it,  with  much  applause." 

Here,  then,  1  rest  my  argument.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
prove  that  emulation  has  an  unfavorable  influence  on  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  and  on  intellectual  improvement. 
We  may  admit,  not  only  that  industry  is  promoted,  but 
that  the  mental  powers  are  excited  into  more  vigorous 
action,  and  the  pupiPs  progress  in  science  and  literature 
accelerated,  What  is  all  this,  when  set  by  the  side  of 
"a  heart  depraved  and  temper  hurt"?  To  christian 
parents  and  christian  instructers,  I  make  my  appeal.  I 
have  little  hope  of  influencing  those  who  despise  the  vir- 
tues of  the  heart.  But  to  you,  ye  followers  of  the  meek 
and  lowly  Jesus,  I  look  for  co-operation  in  opposing  a 
principle  which  is  inimical  to  the  genius  of  Christianity. 
You  remember  the  lessons  of  humility  which  Christ  re- 
peatedly inculcated  on  his  primitive  disciples, — especial- 
ly whenever  they  manifested  a  spirit  of  emulation  or  of 
ambition.  You  remember  that  he  uniformly  reproved  an 
aspiring  disposition,  and  taught  them  that  humility  is  an 
indispensable  qualification  for  admission  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  You  will  therefore  consider  the  improve- 
ment of  the  moral  and  religious  character  as  an  object  of 
infinitely  ''  greater  importance  than  the  attainment  of  any, 
or  even  of  all,  the  intellectual  accomplishments;  nor  will 
you  wish  your  children  to  pluck  of  the  tree  of  knowledge, 
like  our  first  parents,  at  the  suggestion  of  a  fiend  !*" 


*  Miss  Hamilton. 


EMULATION    AND    AMBITION.  173 

The  following  paragraphs,  on  the  subject  of  the  pres- 
ent chapter,  are  extracted  Trom  Babington's  "  Treatise 
on  Practical  Education,''  originally  published  in  the 
Christian  Observer.* 

'•^  The  parent  must  hold  out  examples  to  his  child  in 
such  a  way  as  not  to  excite  emulation.  To  imitate  an 
example  is  one  thing;  to  rival  any  person,  and  endeav- 
or to  obtain  a  superiority  over  him,  is  another.  It  is 
very  true,  as  is  maintained  by  the  defenders  of  emula- 
tion, that  it  is  impossible  to  make  a  progress  towards  ex- 
cellence without  outstripping  others.  But  surely  there 
is  a  great  difference  between  this  being  a  mere  conse- 
quence of  exertions  arising  from  other  motives,  and  a 
zeal  to  attain  this  object  being  itself  a  motive  for  exer- 
tion. Every  one  must  see,  that  the  effects  produced  on 
the  mind  in  the  two  cases,  will  be  extremely  dissimilar. 
Emulation  is  a  desire  of  surpassing  others,  for  the  sake  of 
superiority,  and  is  a  very  powerful  motive  to  exertion. 
As  such,  it  is  employed  in  most  public  schools ;  but  in 
none,  I  believe,  ancient  or  modern,  has  it  been  so  fully 
and  sj'stematicaly  brought  into  action,  as  in  the  schools  of 
Dr.  Bell  and  Mr.  Lancaster.  Whatever  may  be  the  mer- 
its of  the  schools  of  either  of  those  gentlemen  in  other 
respects,  in  this  they  appear  to  me  to  commit  such  an 
offence  against  christian  morals,  that  no  merits  could  atone 
for  it.  I  cannot  but  think  emulation  an  unhallowed  prin- 
ciple of  action  ; — as  scarcely,  if  at  all,  to  be  disjoined 
from  jealousy  and  envy,  from  pride  and  contention  j — in- 
compatible with  loving  our  neighbor  as  ourselves  ; — and 
a  principle  of  such  potency,  as  to  be  likely  to  engross 
the  mind,  and  turn  it  habitually  and  violently  from  the 
motives  which  it  should  be  the  great  business  of  educa- 
tion to  cherish  and  render  predominant,  namely,  a  sense 


*  See  the  Christian  Observer  for  Nov.  1813. 
p2 


174  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

of  duty,  and  gratitude  and  love  to  God.  Instead  of  en- 
larging on  this  subject,  I  beg  leave  to  refer  the  reader  to 
Mr.  Gisborne's  remarks  upon  it,  in  his  "  Duties  of  Wo- 
men." If  emulation  is  an  unhallowed  motive,  it  cannot 
innocently  be  employed,  whatever  good  effects  may  be 
expected  from  it.  We  must  not  do  evil  that  good  may 
come.  But  if  any  Christians  should  deem  it  not  abso- 
lutely unhallowed,  few  will  deny,  I  think,  that  it  is  ques- 
tionable and  dangerous.  Even  then,  in  this  more  favor- 
able view  of  emulation,  ought  it  to  be  used,  except  it 
can  be  shown  to  be  necessary  for  the  infusion  of  vigor 
into  the  youthful  mind,  and  for  securing  a  respectable 
progress  in  literature  ?  I  can  say,  from  experience,  that 
it  is  not  necessary  for  the  attainment  of  those  ends.  In 
a  numerous  family,  with  which  I  am  well  acquainted, 
emulation  has  been  carefully  and  successfully  excluded, 
and  yet  the  acquirements  of  the  different  children  have 
been  very  satisfactory.  I  can  bear  the  same  testimony 
with  respect  to  a  large  Sunday  School,  with  which  I  have 
been  connected  for  many  years.  1  have  often  heard  of 
virtuous  emulation ;  but  can  emulation  ever  be  so  charac- 
terized in  a  Christian  sense  ?  Whether  it  may,  in  that 
loose  sense  of  virtue  which  those  adopt  who  take  the 
worldly  principle  of  honor  for  their  rule,  I  will  not  stop 
to  inquire. 

But  it  is  not  sufficient  not  to  excite  and  employ  emula- 
tion on  plan  and  system,  as  a  stimulus  in  education: 
great  care  ought  to  be  taken  to  exclude  it.  And  great 
care  will  be  necessary  ;  for  it  will  be  continually  ready 
to  show  itself  ;  and  if  not  checked,  it  will  attain  strength, 
strike  its  roots  deep  in  the  heart,  and  produce  bitter 
fruits,  which,  in  the  eyes  of  a  Christian,  will  be  ill  com* 
pensated  by  the  extraordinary  vigor  and  energy  it  will 
gire  to  scholastic  studies.  When  examples  are  held  out 
for  imitation^  (a  very  different  thing,  be  it  always  remem- 


V^f, 


EMULATION   AND    AMBITIO!f*.5;5=:5sS^      175 

bered,  from  emulation^)  or  as  warnings,  the  child  must 
be  made  sensible  that  its  slate,  in  the  sight  of  God,  is 
rendered  neither  better  nor  worse  by  the  virtues  or  the 
faults  of  others,  except  as  far  as  they  may  have  influen- 
ced, or  may  have  failed  to  influence,  its  own  conduct; — 
that  it  ought  to  love  its  neighbor  as  itself,  and  to  rejoice 
in  every  advance  made  by  f^nother  in  what  is  good,  and 
to  lament  over  all  his  faults  and  defecis,  without  one  sel- 
fish thought  being  suffrred  to  check  the  joy  or  the  con- 
cern ; — that  it  ought,  therefore,  to  wish  all  its  companions 
all  success  in  their  common  studies,  with  the  same  sin- 
cerity with  which  it  wishes  for  its  own  success,  and  to  be 
affected  by  their  faults  and  fjii  lures  in  the  same  manner 
it  would  by  its  cun.  It  should  be  made  sensible,  that  in 
proportion  as  it  may  give  way  to  feelings  the  reverse  of 
these,  its  "  eye  will  be  evil  because  others  are  good ;" 
and  it  will  actin  opposition  to  the  injunction,  "Mind  not 
every  one  his  own  things,  but  every  one  also  the  things  of 
others,"  and  to  a  whole  host  of  scriptural  precepts  and  ex- 
amples. These  things  must  be  inculcated,  not  by  lectures 
in  general  terms,  but  by  applying  such  views  to  all  the 
little  incidents  which  call  for  them  as  they  successively 
arise.  The  child  must  also  be  made  sensible  how  much 
better  it  is  for  himself  that  his  companions  should  be 
eminent  for  laudable  attahiments  and  good  qualities ;  for 
that  in  proportion  to  their  excellence  in  these  respects, 
they  will  be  useful  and  estimable  companions,  and  ought 
to  be  objects  of  his  affection.  All  little  boasts  of  having 
done  better  that  this  or  that  brother  or  sister,  and  every 
disposition  to  disappointment  when  they  succeed  best, 
should  be  checked,  and  the  lesson  of  rejoicing  with  them 
that  do  rejoice,  and  of  weeping  with  them  that  weep,"  very 
diligently  inculcated." 


:  (  176  ) 

CHAPTER  Vm. 

Litigation. 

" '  If  it  be  possible^  live  peaceably  with  all  men ;' 
which  precept,"  says  Dr.  Paley,  "  contains  an  indirect 
confession  that  this  is  not  always  possible. 

On  the  one  hand,  Christianity  excludes  all  vindictive 
motives,  and  all  frivolous  causes  of  prosecution  ;  so  that 
where  the  injury  is  small,  where  no  good  purpose  of 
public  example  is  answered,  where  forbearance  is  not 
likely  to  invite  a  repetition  of  the  injury,  or  where  the 
expense  of  an  action  becomes  a  punishment  too  severe 
for  the  offence  ;  there  the  christian  is  withheld  by  the 
authority  of  his  religion  from  going  to  law. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  law-suit  is  inconsistent  with  no 
rule  of  the  gospel,  when  it  is  instituted, 

1.  For  the  establishing  of  some  important  right. 

2.  For  the  procuring  of  a  compensation  for  some  con- 
siderable damage. 

3.  For  the  preventing  of  future  injury. 

But,  since  it  is  supposed  to  be  undertaken  simply  with 
a  view  to  the  ends  of  justice  and  safety,  the  prosecutor 
of  the  action  is  bound  to  confine  himself  to  the  cheapest 
process  which  will  accomplish  these  ends,  as  well  as  to 
consent  to  any  peaceable  expedient  for  the  same  purpose ; 
as  to  a  reference^  in  which  the  arbitrators  can  do,  what  the 
law  cannot,  divide  the  damage,  when  the  fault  is  mutual ; 
or  to  a  compounding  of  the  dispute^  by  accepting  a  com- 
pensation in  the  gross,  without  entering  into  articles  and 
items,  which  it  is  often  very  difficult  to  adjust  separately. 

As  to  the  rest,  the  duty  of  the  contending  parties  may 
be  expressed  in  the  following  directions  : 

Not  by  appeals  to  prolong  a  suit  against  your  own  con- 
viction. 


LITIGATION.  177 

Net  to  undertake  or  defend  a  suit  against  a  poor  ad- 
versary, or  render  it  more  dilatory  or  expensive  than  ne- 
cessary, with  a  hope  of  intimidating  or  wearying  him 
out  by  the  expense. 

Not  to  influence  evidence  by  authority  or  expectation. 

Nor  to  stifle  any  in  your  possession,  although  it  make 
against  you. 

Hitherto  we  have  treated  of  civil  actions.  In  crimi- 
Tial  prosecutions,  the  private  injury  should  be  forgotten, 
and  the  prosecutor  proceed  with  the  same  temper  and 
the  same  motives,  as  the  magistrate;  the  one  being  a  ne- 
cessary minister  of  justice  as  well  as  the  other,  and  both 
bound  to  direct  their  conduct  by  a  dispassionate  care  of 
the  public  welfare. 

In  whatever  degree  the  punishment  of  an  offender  is 
conducive,  or  his  escape  dangerous,  to  the  interest  of  the 
community,  in  the  same  degree  is  the  party  against 
whom  the  crime  was  committed  bound  to  prosecute,  be- 
cause such  prosecutions  must  in  their  nature  originate 
from  the  sufferer.  Therefore,  great  public  crimes,  as 
robberies,  forgeries,  and  the  like,  ought  not  to  be  spared, 
from  an  apprehension  of  trouble  or  expense  in  carrying 
on  the  prosecution,  from  false  shame,  or  misplaced  com- 
passion. 

The  character  of  an  informer  is  undeservedly  odious. 
But  where  any  public  advantage  is  likely  to  be  attained 
by  informations,  or  other  activity  in  promoting  the  exe- 
cution of  the  laws,  a  good  man  will  despise  a  prejudice 
founded  in  no  just  reason^  or  will  acquit  himself  of  the 
imputation  of  interested  designs,  by  giving  away  his 
share  of  the  penalty."*  , 


»  Paley's  Moral  Philos.  Book  III.  Part  11.  Chap.  10. 


u  (  ns  ) 

Gratitude. 

The  merit  of  gratitude,  as  the  term  is  generally  used, 
appears  to  be  overrated.  If  I  mistake  not,  gratitude  is 
generally  regarded  as  relating  merely  to  the  reception 
of  benefits,  without  taking  into  view  the  character, 
or  the  motives,  of  the  benefactor.  Hence  it  is  thought 
that  gratitude  is  due  for  favors  received,  although  we 
know  that  they  were  bestowed  from  bad  motives.  Hence, 
too,  it  is  thought,  that  we  are  bound  by  gratitude  to 
speak  well  of  one  who  has  obliged  us,  although  we  krow 
his  character  to  be  bad,  and  although,  were  it  not  for  the 
obligations  of  gratitude,  we  should  feel  it  our  duty  to 
warn  others  against  him  as  a  dangerous  man.  And  to 
this  purpose  is  an  adage,  which  I  have  sometimes  heard 
from  the  mouth  of  the  vulgar,  "  Always  speak  well  of  a 
bridge  that  carries  you  well  over."  What !  if  you  know 
that  it  is  liable  to  precipitate  the  next  passenger  into  the 
gulf  beneath  ?  We  ought  to  speak  of  things  as  they 
are, — as  far  as  we  speak  of  them  at  all.  Nor  are  we 
bound,  by  gratitude,  to  speak  any  better  of  a  man,  than  we 
ought,  with  the  same  knowledge  of  his  character,  to 
have  spoken  of  him  without  that  obligation.  Neither 
are  we  bound,  by  gratitude,  to  esteem  or  love  a  man  any 
more,  than  we  ought,  with  the  same  knowledge  of  his 
character,  to  have  esteemed  and  loved  him  without  re- 
ceiving any  favor  from  him.  But  the  favors  he  bestows 
on  us,  may  give  us  a  better  knowledge  of  b.is  character, 
than  we  had  bef<^re.  They  may  -diford  new  evidence  of 
his  liberality  and  benevolence  ;  and  may  serve  as  memen- 
toes to  lead  the  mind  frequently  to  contemjriate  those 
amiable  qualities  which  prompted  their  bestowment. 
And  this  is  the   distinguishing  feature  of  true  gratitude. 


GRATITUDE.  179 

It  is  a  sentiment  which  differs  in  degree  only,  not  in 
kind,  tiom  what  is  felt  toward  every  man  who  is  known 
to  possess  a  benevolent  disposition.  If  I  see  this  benev- 
olence exercised  in  bestowing  benefits  upon  my  fellow 
cr-nitures,  the  sentiment  ought  to  rise  nearly,  and  some- 
times quite,  as  high,  as  if  those  benefits  were  bestowed 
on  myself  The  only  difference  is,  that  i  have  a  better 
opportunity  to  loarn  the  full  value  of  the  benefits  which 
I  receive  myself;  and  these  benefits,  remaining  with  me, 
serve  to  remind  me,  from  time  to  time,  of  the  benevo- 
lence to  which  I  owe  them.  It  is  thus,  that  by  being 
personally  obliged,  I  obtain  more  distinct  and  lively  views, 
a  more  frequent  recollection,  and  a  more  lasting  remem- 
brance, of  the  amiable  qualities  of  my  benefactor.  AH 
gratitude  which  is  of  any  other  kind,  or  which  has  any 
other  basis,  is  spurious  and  selfish  ; — is  the  sentiment 
which  our  Savior  had  in  view  when  he  said,  '^  If  ye  love 
them  that  love  you,  what  thank  have  ye  ?  for  sinners  also 
love  those  that  love  them.  And  if  ye  do  good 
to  them  that  do  good  to  you,  what  thank  have  ye  ? 
for  sinners  also  do  even  the  same."*  It  would  seem 
not  very  difficult  to  distinguish  between  these  two  kinds 
of  gratitude.  In  the  one  case,  I  love  a  benefactor 
for  his  favors  merely  ;  in  the  other,  1  love  him  solely  for 
that  benevolence  which  prompted  him  to  bestow  favors  on 
me.  Or  rather,  in  the  one  case,  I  love  him  solely  be- 
cause he  appears  to  love  me  ;  in  the  other,  I  love  him  be- 
cause he  manifests  a  disposition  to  do  good  wherever  he 
has  an  opportunity. 

Perhaps  selfish  gratitude,  frequent  as  it  is,  is  not  much 
more  so,  than  selfish  beneficence.  Favors  are  often  be- 
stowed merely  to  subserve  one's  own  interest.  It  is  not 
infrequent  ''•to  take  advantage  of  that  ascendency,  which 
the  conferring  of  benefits  justly  creates,  to  draw  or  drive 

*  Luke  vi.  3®,  38. 


180  PRACTICAL    ETHICS,. 

those  whom  we  have  obliged,  into  mean  or  dishonest 
compliances.''  ^'  This  argues  a  total  deplitution  both  of 
delicacy  and  generosity,  as  well  as  of  moral  probity."  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  add,  "  that  gratitude  can  never  lay 
a  man  under  obligation  to  do  what  is  wrong ;  and  that  it 
is  no  ingratitude,  to  reiuse  to  do  what  we  cannot  recon- 
cile to  any  apprehensions  of  our  duty."* 

Lest  what  has  been  said  should  be  so  interpreted  by 
some  as  to  weaken  the  obligations  of  gratitude,  1  would 
observe,  that  even  selfish  graiitiule,  though  not  entitled 
to  the  appeliation  of  a  virtue,  is  often  promotive  of  the 
happiness  of  society ;  while  ingratitude  is  universally 
odious,  and  serves  ''  to  check  and  discourage  voluntary 
beneficence."  I  ought  to  make  a  grateful  return  for  the 
favors  1  have  received,  because  I  thus  show  that  I  value 
and  love  that  benevolent  disposition  which  has  been  man* 
ifested  by  the  bestowment  of  those  favors;  and  because 
the  same  benefactor,  and  all  who  witness  my  gratitude, 
will  be  mGre  likely  to  bestow  favors  on  others.  For  the 
same  reason,  I  ought,  at  every  opportunity,  to  show  my 
sense  of  the  kindness  of  a  beneficent  man,  although  his 
favors  have  not  been  bestowed  on  myself.  In  estimat- 
ing the  evil  of  real  or  apparent  ingratitude,  we  must 
consider,  not  how  little  it  would  check  the  beneficence 
of  men  who  were  actuated  by  pure  benevolence,  but  in 
how  great  a  degree  it  is  likely  to  produce  this  effect  on 
those  who  are  influenced,  in  bestowing  favors,  by  so  large 
a  share  of  selfishness  as  most  men  possess  :  1  may  some- 
times think  it  my  duty  to  neglect  a  benefactor  for  the 
sake  of  doing  a  greater  good  in  some  other  way.  In  such 
a  case,  the  evil  effects  of  apparent  ingratitude  may  be, 
in  part  at  least,  prevented,  by  making  known  the  motives 
from  which  I  act,  and  the  considerations  that  impej  me 
to  run  the  risk  of  appearing  ungrateful. 


*Paley's  Moral  Philosophy;  Book  III.  Part  II.  Chap.  11. 


(  181  )  ?*f 

Slander, 

"  Slander,"  says  Dr.  Paley,  ''  may  be  dislinguished  into 
two  kinds  ;  malicious  slander,  and  inconsiderate  slander. 

Malicious  slander,  is  the  r'-lating  of  either  truth  or 
falsehood,  for  the  purpose  of  creating  misery.  I  acknowl- 
edge that  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  what  is  related,  va- 
ries the  degree  of  guilt  considerably  ;  and  that  slander, 
in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  term,  signifies  the  cir- 
culation of  mischievous  falsehoods :  but  truth  may  be 
made  instrumental  to  the  success  of  malicious  designs  as 
well  as  falsehood  ;  and  if  the  end  be  bad,  the  means  can- 
not be  innocent. 

To  infuse  suspicions,  to  kindle  or  continue  disputes,  to 
avert  the  favor  and  esteem  of  benefactors  from  their  de- 
pendents, to  render  some  one  whom  we  dislike  contempt- 
ible or  obnoxious  in  the  pnblic  opinion,  are  all  offices  of 
slander ;  of  which  the  guilt  must  be  measured  by  the  in- 
tensity and  extent  of  the  misery  produced.  The  disguises 
under  which  slander  is  conveyed,  whether  in  a  whisper, 
with  injunctions  of  secrecy,  by  way  of  caution,  or  with 
affected  reluctance,  are  all  so  many  aggravations  of  the 
offence,  as  they  indicate  more  deliberation  and  design. 

Information  communicated  for  the  real  purpose  of 
warning,  or  cautioning,  is  not  slander. 

The  guilt  of  inconsiderate  slander  consists  in  the  want 
of  that  regard  to  the  consequences  of  our  conduct,  which 
a  just  affection  for  human  happiness,  and  concern  for  our 
duty,  would  not  have  failed  to  produce  in  us.  And  it  is 
no  answer  to  this  crimination  to  say,  that  we  entertained 
no  evil  design.'^'^* 


*  Paley's  Mor.  Philos.  Book  III.  Part  II.  Chap.  12. 


J 82  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

Inconsiderate  slander  appears  to  proceed  chiefly  from 
two  motives.  First,  many  people  slander  other*,  merely 
because  they  think  it  exhibits  their  own  character  to  bet- 
ter advantage.  They  wish  the  faults  of  their  neighbors 
to  serve  as  a  cloak  for  their  own,  and  also,  by  way  of 
contrast,  to  render  their  virtues  the  more  conspicuous. 
It  is  probable  that  most  slanderers  feel  a  secret  pride  in 
thinking  that  they  are  free — when  they  happen  to  be  so — 
from  the  vices  which  they  censure  in  others. 

In  the  second  place,  it  seems  likely  that  some,  espe- 
cially persons  of  a  loquacious  turn,  slander  their  neigh- 
bors merely  for  the  sake  of  having  something  to  talk 
about.  Having  formed  a  habit  of  loquacity,  and  being  at 
a  loss  for  topics  of  conversation,  they  have  recourse  to 
that  prolific  theme,  which  is  never  exhausted.  It  is  la- 
mentable indeed,  that  the  education  of  any  should  be  so 
neglected,  that  they  should  ever  find  themselves  reduced 
to  the  unhappy  alternative  of  either  saying  nothing  or 
slandering  their  neighbors.  Such  slander  as  this,  almost 
innocent  as  it  may  appear  at  first  view,  shows  not  oiJy  a 
destitution  of  mental  furniture,  but  of  sober  reflection  and 
virtuous  principles. 


ca^apTisR  2:1. 

Of  Rights. 


"  Right  and  obligation,"  says  Dr.  Paley,  ''  are  recip- 
rocal ;  that  is,  wherever  there  is  a  right  in  one  person, 
there  is  a  corresponding  obligation  upon  others,  li  one 
man  has  a  '  right'  to  an  estate,  others  are  under  '  obliga- 
tion' to  abstain  from  it ;  if  parents  have  a  '  right'  to  rev- 
erence from  their  children,  children  are  under  '  obliga- 


OF    RIGHTS.  188 

tion'  to  reverence  their  parents ;  and  so  in  all  other  in- 
stances."* 

"  The  Division  of  Rights.  Rights  are  natural  or  ad- 
ventitious, alienable  or  unalienable,  perfect  or  imperfect. 

1.  Rights  are  natural  or  adventitious.  Natural  righte 
are  such  as  would  belong  to  a  man,  although  there  subsist 
ed  in  the  world  no  civil  government  whatever.  Adventi 
tious  rights  are  such  as  would  not.  Natural  rights  are, 
a  man's  right  to  his  life,  limbs,  and  liberty ;  his  right  to 
the  produce  of  his  personal  labor ;  to  the  use,  in  com- 
mon with  others,  of  air,  light,  water.  Adventitious  rights 
are,  the  right  of  a  king  over  his  subjects ;  a  right  to  elect 
or  appoint  magistrates,  to  impose  taxes,  &c.  And  here 
it  will  be  asked  how  adventitious  rights  are  created ;  or, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  how  any  new  rights  can  accrue 
from  the  establishment  of  civil  society.  For  the  solution 
of  this  difficulty,  we  must  return  to  our  first  principles. 
Many  things  are  useful  in  civil  society,  and  are,  for  that 
reason,  right,  which,  without  the  establishment  of  civil 
society,  would  not  have  been  so. 

2.  Rights  are  alienable  or  unalienable. '^'^  An  alienable 
right  is  one  which  can  be  transferred  to  another  person. 
An  unalienable  right  is  one  which  cannot.  "  The  right 
we  have  to  most  of  those  things  which  we  call  property, 
as  houses,  lands,  money,  is  alienable."  The  right  of  a 
prince  over  his  people,  and  the  right  of  every  man  to  his 
life  and  liberty,  are  unalienable.  The  right  to  civil  lib- 
ert}^  is  unalienable,  because  this  liberty  is  necessary  in 
order  to  the  discharge  of  the  duties  which  we  owe  to  God 
and  our  fellow  men.  No  man  has  a  right  to  do  anything 
which  would  be  likely  to  destroy  or  diminish  his  useful- 
ness in  the  world.  An  unconditional  surrender  of  one's 
self  as  a  slave,  is  a  crime  of  the  same  kind,  as  the  depriv- 
ing of  one's  self,  voluntarily,  of  limbs,  or  health,  or  reasoir. 


*  Paley's  Moral  Philos.  Book  U.  Chap.  ». 


184.  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

"  3.  Rights  are  perfect  or  imperfect.  Perfect  rights 
may  be  asserted  by  force,  or,  what  in  civil  society  comes 
into  the  place  of  private  force,  by  course  of  law.  Im- 
perfect rights  may  not.  Perfect  rights  are,  a  man's  right 
to  his  life,  person,  house  ;  for,  if  these  be  attacked,  he 
may  repel  the  attack  by  instant  violence,  or  punish  the 
aggressor  by  law ;  also,  a  man's  right  to  his  estate,  and 
to  all  ordinary  articles  of  property ;  for,  if  they  be  inju- 
riously taken  from  him,  he  may  compel  the  author  of  the 
injury  to  make  restitution  or  satisfaction.  The  following^ 
are  examples  of  imperfect  rights :  A  poor  neighbor  has 
a  right  to  relief;  yet,  if  it  be  refused  him,  he  must  not 
extort  it.  A  benefactor  has  a  right  to  returns  of  grati- 
tude from  the  person  he  has  obliged ;  yet,  if  he  meet 
with  none,  he  must  acquiesce.  Children  have  a  right  to 
affection  and  education  from  their  parents ;  and  parents, 
on  their  part,  to  duty  and  reverence  from  their  children ; 
yet,  if  these  rights  be  on  either  side  withheld,  there  is  no 
compulsion  by  which  they  can  be  enforced. 

It  may  be  at  first  view  difficult  to  apprehend  how  a 
person  should  have  a  right  to  a  thing,  and  yet  have  no 
right  to  use  the  means  necessary  to  obtain  it.  This  dif- 
ficulty, like  most  others  in  morality,  is  resolvable  into 
the  necessity  of  general  rules.  By  reason  of  the  inde- 
terminateness,  either  of  the  object  or  of  the  circumstan- 
ces of  the  right,  the  permission  of  force  in  this  case 
would,  in  its  consequence,  lead  to  the  permission  of  force 
in  other  cases,  where  there  existed  no  right  at  all.  A 
poor  man  has  a  right  to  relief  from  the  rich  ;  but  the 
mode,  season,  and  quantum  of  that  relief,  who  shall  con- 
tribute to  it,  or  how  much,  are  not  ascertained.  Yet 
these  points  must  be  ascertained,  before  a  claim  to  relief 
can  be  prosecuted  by  force.  For,  to  allow  the  poor  to 
ascertain  them  for  themselves,  would  be  to  expose  prop- 
erty to  so  many  of  these  claims,  that  it  woqld  lose  its  val- 


OF    RIGHTS.  185 

tie,  or  rather  its  nature,  that  is,  ceaJ»e  indeed  to  be  prop- 
erty. Th^  same  observation  holds  of  ail  other  cases  of 
imperfect  rights;  not  to  mention,  that  in  the  instances  of 
gratitude,  affection,  reverence,  and  the  like,  force  is  ex- 
cluded by  the  very  idea  of  the  duty,  which  must  be  vol- 
untary, or  cannot  exist  at  all."* 

It  may  be  well  just  to  remark,  that  when  we  denomin- 
ate a  certain  class  of  rights  '  imperfect,'  it  is  not  implied, 
that  a  less  degree  of  guilt  is  involved  in  the  violation  of 
the  obligation  which  these  rights  impose.  Indeed,  im- 
perfect rights  are  so  only  in  a  legal,  not  a  moral  sense. 
^^  There  is  as  little  an  imperfect  right  in  any  moral  sense," 
says  Dr.  Brown,  •■'  as  there  is  in  logic  an  imperfect  truth 
or  falsehood.*" 

^'  The  General  Rights  of  Mankind.     These  are, 

1.  A  right  to  the  fruits  or  vegetable  produce  of  the 
earth. 

2.  A  right  to  the  flesh  of  animals.  This  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent claim  trom  the  former.  Some  excuse  seems  ne- 
cessary for  the  pain  and  loss  which  we  occasion  to  brutes, 
by  restraining  them  of  their  liberty,  mutilating  their  bo- 
dies, and,  at  last,  putting  an  end  to  their  lives  (which  we 
suppose  to  be  the  whole  of  their  existence,)  for  our  plea- 
sure or  convenience,  it  seems  difficult  to  defend  this 
right  by  any  argument  which  the  light  and  order  of  na- 
ture afford  ;  and  that  we  are  indebted  for  it  to  the  per- 
mission recorded  in  scripture — Gen.  ix.  1-3. 

Since  it  is  God's  intention,  that  the  productions  of  the 
earth  should  be  applied  to  the  sustentation  of  human  lifei 
all  waste  and  misapplication  of  these  productions,  are 
contrary  to  the  divine  intention  and  will,  and  therefore 
wrong;  such  as  the  expending  of  human  food  on  superflu- 
ous dogs  or  horses ;  and  the  reducing  of  the  quantity,  ia 


►PaJc>'s  Moral  Piiilos.  B^ok  II.  Chap.  19, 
^2 


186  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

order  to  alter  the  quality,  and  to  alter  it  generally  for  the 
worse  ;  as  in  the  distillation  of  spirits  from  bread-corn, 
the  boiling  down  of  solid  meat  for  sauces,  essences,  &c. 
This  seems  lo  be  the  lesson  which  our  Savior  inculcates, 
when  he  bids  his  disciples  "  gather  up  the  fragments, 
that  nothing  be  lost."  And  it  opens  indeed  a  new  field 
of  duty.  It  has  not  as  yet  entered  into  the  minds  of 
mankind,  to  reflect  that  it  is  a  duty^  to  add  what  we  can 
to  the  common  stock  of  provision,  by  extracting  out  of 
our  estates  the  most  they  will  yield;  or  that  it  is  any  sin 
to  neglect  this. 

From  the  same  intention  of  God  Almighty,  we  also  de- 
duce another  conclusion,  namely,  '  that  nothing  ought  to 
be  made  exclusive  property,  which  can  be  conveniently 
enjoyed  in  common,'  Upon  this  principle  may  be  deter- 
mined the  question,  whether  the  exclusive  right  of  navi- 
gating particular  seas,  or  a  control  over  the  navigation 
of  these  seas,  can  be  claimed,  consistently  with  the  law 
of  nature,  by  any  nation?  What  is  necessary  for  each 
nation's  safety  we  allow ;  as  their  own  bays,  creeks,  and 
harbors,  the  sea  contiguous  to,  that  is,  within  cannon  shot, 
or  three  leagues  of  their  coast :  and  upon  this  principle 
of  safety  (if  upon  any  principle)  must  be  defended,  the 
claim  of  the  Venetian  state  to  the  Adriatic,  of  Denmark 
to  the  Baltic  sea,  and  of  Great  Britain  to  the  seas  which 
invest  the  island.  But,  when  Spain  asserts  a  right  to  the 
Pacific  ocean,  or  Portugal  to  the  Indian  seas,  or  when  any 
nation  extends  its  pretensions  much  beyond  the  limits  of 
its  own  territories,  they  erect  a  claim  which  interferes 
with  the  benevolent  designs  of  Providence,  and  which 
no  human  authority  can  justify. 

3.  Another  right,  which  may  be  called  a  general  right, 
as  it  is  incidental  to  every  man  who  is  in  a  situation  to 
claim  it,  is  the  right  of  extreme  necessity  :  by  which 
is  meant,  a  right  to  use  or  destroy  another's  property, 


OF    PROPERTY.  187 

when  it  is  necessary  for  our  own  preservation  to  do  so  ; 
as  a  right  to  take,  without  or  against  the  owner's  leave, 
the  first  food,  clothes,  or  shelter  we  meet  with,  when  we 
are  in  danger  of  perishing  through  want  of  them ;  a 
right  to  throw  goods  overboard,  to  save  the  ship  ;  or  to 
pull  down  a  house,  in  order  to  stop  the  progress  of  a  fire ; 
and  a  few  other  instances  of  the  same  kind.  These  are 
the  few  cases,  where  the  particular  consequence  exceeds 
the  general  consequence  ;  where  the  remote  mischief  re- 
sulting from  the  violation  of  the  general  rule,  is  over- 
balanced by  the  immediate  advantage.  Restitution,howeT 
er,  is  due,  when  in  our  power;  because  the  laws  of  prop- 
erty are  to  be  adhered  to,  so  far  as  consists  with  safety ; 
and  because  restitution,  which  is  one  of  those  laws,  sup- 
poses the  danger  to  be  over.'-'^ 

CHAFTSR  XZZ. 

Of  Property. 

^^  The  principal  advantages  of  the  institution  of  prop- 
erty, are  the  following: 

1.  It  increases  the  produce  of  the  earth. 

The  earth,  in  climates  like  ours,  produces  little  with- 
out cultivation  ;  and  none  would  be  found  willing  to  cul- 
tivate the  ground,  if  others  were  to  be  admitted  to  an 
equal  share  of  the  produce.  The  same  is  true  of  flocks 
and  herds  of  tame  animals. 

2.  It  preserves  the  produce   of  the  earth  to  maturity. 
We  may  judge  what  would  be  the  effects  of  a  commu- 
nity of  right  to  the  productions   of    the    earth,  from  the 


*  Paley's  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  II.  Chap.  11. 


188  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

trifling  specimens  which  we  see  of  it  at  present."  Cher- 
ries, plums,  pears,  or  peaches,  that  grow  in  the  highway, 
"  are  seldom  of  much  advantage  to  any  body,  because 
people  do  not  wait  for  the  proper  season  of  reaping 
them.  Corn,  if  any  were  sown,  would  never  ripen ; 
lambs  and  calves  would  never  grow  up  to  sheep  and 
cows,  because  the  first  person  that  met  them  wouid  re- 
flect, that  he  had  better  take  them  as  they  are,  than  leave 
them  for  another. 

3.  It  prevents  contests. 

War  and  waste,  tumult  and  confusion,  must  be  unavoid- 
able and  eternal,  where  there  is  not  enough  for  all,  and 
where  there  are  no  rules  to  adjust  the  division. 

4.  It  improves  the  conveniency  of  living. 

This  it  does  two  ways.  It  enables  mankind  to  divide 
themselves  into  distinct  professions  ;  which  is  impossible, 
unless  a  man  can  exchange  the  productions  ot  his  own 
art  for  what  he  wants  from  others  ;  and  exchange  im- 
plies property.  Much  of  the  advantages  of  civilized 
over  savage  life  depends  upon  this.  When  a  man  is 
from  necessity  his  own  tailor,  tentmaker,  cnrpenter,  cook, 
huntsman,  and  fisherman,  it  is  not  probable  that  he  will 
be  expert  at  any  of  his  callings^  Hence  the  rude  habi- 
tations, furniture,  clothing,  and  impU  menis  of  savages  ; 
and  the  tedious  lengih  of  time  which  all  their  operations 
require. 

It  likewise  encourages  those  arts,  by  which  the  ac- 
commodations ot  human  life  are  supplied,  by  ajpropria- 
ting  to  the  artist  the  benefit  of  his  discoveries  and  im- 
provements ;  without  which  appropriation,  ingenuity  will 
never  be  exerted  with  efiect.*'* 

The  institution  of  property  is  founded  on  expediency. 
It  is    for    the  benefit  of  society,  that  property  should  be 

*  Paley*8  Mor.  Piiilosophy,  Book  III.  Part.  I.  Cliap.  2. 


PROMISES.  139 

established.  But  there  is  one  kind  of  property,  namely, 
property  in  land^  which  cannot  be  established,  without 
leaving  it  to  the  law  of  the  country  to  regulate  the  divis- 
ion. Of  our  right  to  this  kind  of  properly,  therefore, 
the  civil  law  is  the  immediate  foundation. 


CHAPTER  XIZZ. 

Promises. 

"  I.  From  whence  the  obligation  to  perform  promises  arises. 

The  obligation  to  perform  promises  may  be  deduced 
from  the  necessity  of  such  a  conduct  to  the  well-being, 
or  the  existence,  indeed,  of  human  society.  Men  act 
from  expectation.  Expectation  is  in  most  cases  deter- 
mined by  the  assurances  and  engagements  which  we  re- 
ceive from  others.  If  no  dependence  could  be  placed 
upon  these  assurances,  it  would  be  impossible  to  know 
what  judgment  to  form  of  many  future  events,  or  how  to 
regulate  our  conduct  with  respect  to  them.  Confidence 
therefore  in  promises  is  essential  to  the  intercourse  of 
human  life ;  because,  without  it,  the  greatest  part  of  our 
conduct  would  proceed  upon  chance. 

II.  In  what  sense  promises  are  to  be  interpreted. 

Where  the  terms  of  promise  admit  of  more  senses 
than  one,  the  promise  is  to  be  performed  in  that  sense  in 
which  the  promiser  apprehended  at  the  time  that  the  promisee 
received  it. 

It  is  not  the  sense  in  which  the  promiser  actually  in- 
tended it,  that  always  governs  the  interpretation  of  an 
equivocal  promise ;  because,  at  that  rate,  you  might  ex- 
cite expectation,  which  you  never  meant,  nor  would  be 
obliged,  to  satisfy.     Much  less  is  it  the  sense,  in  which 


190  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

the  promisee  actually  received  the  promise  ;  lor7  accord^ 
ing  to  that  rule,  you  might  be  drawn  into  engagements 
which  you  never  designed  to  undertake.  It  must  there- 
fore be  the  sense  (for  there  is  no  other  remaining)  in 
which  the  promiser  believed  that  the  promisee  accepted 
his  promise. 

This  will  not  differ  from  the  actual  intention  of  the 
promiser,  where  the  promise  is  given  without  collusion 
or  reserve  ;  but  we  put  the  rule  in  the  above  form,  to 
exclude  evasion  in  cases  in  which  the  popular  meaning 
of  a  phrase,  and  the  strict  grammatical  signification  of 
the  words,  differ ;  or,  in  general,  wherever  the  promiser 
attempts  to  make  his  escape  through  some  ambiguity  in 
the  expression  which  he  used. 

Temures  promised  the  garrison  of  Sebastia,  that,  if 
they  would  surrender,  no  blood  should  be  shed.  The  gar- 
rison surrendered  ;  and  Temures  buried  them  all  alive. 
Now  Temures  fulfilled  the  promise  in  one  sense,  and  in 
the  sense  too  in  which  he  intended  it  at  the  time  ;  but  not 
in  the  sense  in  which  the  garrison  of  Sebastia  actually 
received  it,  nor  in  the  sense  in  which  Temures  himself 
knew  that  the  garrison  received  it :  which  last  sense,  ac- 
cording to  our  rule,  was  the  sense  in  which  he  was  in 
conscience  bound  to  perform  it. 

From  the  account  we  have  given  of  the  obligotion  of 
promises,  it  is  evident,  that  this  obligation  depends  upon 
the  expectations  which  we  knowingly  and  voluntanly  ex- 
cite. Consequently,  any  action  or  conduct  towards 
another,  which  w-e  are  sensible  excites  ex}»ectations  in 
that  other,  is  as  much  a  promise,  and  creates  as  strict  an 
obligation,  as  the  most  express  assurances.  This  is  the 
foundation  of  tacit  promises. 

You  may  either  simply  declare  your  present  intention, 
or  you  may  accompany  your  declaration  with  an  engage- 
ment to  abide  by  it,  which  constitutes  a  complete  promise. 


PROMISES.  1  9  I 

In  the  first  cage,  the  duty  is  satisfif  d,  if  you  were  sincere 
at  the  time,  that  is,  if  you  entertained  at  the  time  the 
intention  you  expressed,  however  soon,  or  for  whatever 
reason,  you  afterwards  change  it.  In  the  latter  case,  you 
have  parted  with  the  liberty  of  changing.  All  this  is 
plain  ;  but  it  ma*t  be  observed,  that  most  of  those  forms  of 
speech,  which,  strictly  taken,  amount  to  no  more 
than  declarations  of  present  intention,  do  yet,  in  the 
usual  way  of  understanding  them,  excite  the  expectation 
and  therefore  carry  with  them  the  force  of  absolute  prom- 
ises. If  you  choose,  therefore,  to  make  known  your 
present  intention,  and  yet  to  reserve  to  yourself  the  liber- 
ty of  changing  it,  you  must  guard  your  expressions  by  an 
additional  clause,  as  "  I  intend  at  present — if  I  do  not  al. 
ter^"* — or  the  like.  And  after  all,  as  there  can  be  no  rea- 
son for  communicating  your  intention,  but  to  excite  some 
degree  of  expectation  or  other,  a  wanton  change  of  an 
intention  which  is  once  disclosed,  always  disappoints 
somebody  ;  and  is  always,  for  that  reason,  wrong." 

The  expression  of  a  present  resolution  or  determination^ 
if  there  is  no  design  to  excite  expectation,  is  to  be  consid- 
ered in  the  same  light  as  the  expression  of  a  present  inten- 
tion ;  only,  the  stronger  is  the  language  used,  the  greater 
need  there  is  of  caution,  lest  expectation  should  be  excit- 
ed and  some  one  disappointed,  or  lest  there  should  be  a 
want  of  decision  in  our  character. 

In  the  interpretation  of  promises,  circumstances  are  to 
be  included,  as  well  as  the  principal  thing  promised.  One 
of  the  most  important  of  these  is  time.  A  man  is  as  much 
under  obligation  to  do  a  thing  at  the  time  at  which  he 
promised  to  do  it,  or  at  which  he  supposed  it  was  under- 
stood that  he  should  do  it,  as  he  is  to  do  it  at  all.  Many, 
however,  who  have  not  formed  a  general  habit  o{  punc- 
tuality ^  are  very  negligent  in  this  respect.  They  do  not 
consider,  that  the  business  of  others  will  not  aiways'bear 


192  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

to  be  out  of  time  and  out  of  place^  so  well  as  their  own. 
Some  make  a  practice  of  being  an  hour,  or  half  an  hour 
behind  hand  in  everything.  They  are  as  invariably 
and  as  systematically  too  late,  as  if  it  were  a  capital  crime 
to  do  a  thing  when  it  should  be  done.  We  can  hardly  ex- 
pect such  men  to  be  punctual  in  any  particular  instance, 
until  their  general  practice  is  reformed.  In  order  to  ef- 
fect such  a  reformation,  let  them  be  made  to  see  the  per- 
nicious tendency  of  a  habit  of  negligence  and  procrasti- 
nation, both  as  it  respects  their  own  interest  and  that  of 
their  neighbors  ;  and  let  them  be  made  to  feel,  that  a 
-want  of  punctuality  in  fulfilling  engagements,  is  actually 
a  breach  of  promise,  and  a  sin  against  God. 
''  III.  In  what  cases  promises  are  not  binding. 

1.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  the  performance 
is  impossible.  But  observe,  that  the  promiser  is  guilty  of 
a  fraud,  and  is  justly  answerable  in  an  equivalent,  if  he  is 
secretly  aware  of  the  impossibility,  at  the  time  of  mak- 
ing the  promise.  When  the  promisor  himself  occasions 
the  impossibility,  it  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  direct 
breach  of  promise  ;  as  when  a  soldier  maims,  or  a  ser- 
rant  disables  himself,  to  get  rid  of  his  engagements. 

2.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  the  performance 
is  unlawful. 

There  are  two  cases  of  this  ;  one,  where  the  unlawful- 
ness is  known  to  the  parties  at  the  time  of  making  the 
promise  ;  in  which  case  they  are  not  obliged  to  perform 
what  the  promise  requires,  because  they  were  under  a 
prior  obligation  to  the  contrary.  The  other  case  is, 
where  the  unlawfulness  did  not  exist,  or  was  not  known, 
at  the  time  of  making  the  promise.  The  lawfulness, 
therefore,  becomes  a  condition  of  the  promise  ;  which 
condition  failing,  the  obligation  ceases."  If  the  promis- 
er  is  aware  of  the  unlawfulness  of  a  promise,  at  the  time 
of  making  it,  and  the  promisee  is  not,  the  former  is  just- 


PROMISES.  193 

\y  answerable  in  an  eqnivaleut,  as  in  the  case  of  promis- 
es of  which  the  performance  is  impossible. 

"  I  would  recommend,  to  young  persons  especialh'^,  a 
caution,  from  the  neglect  of  which  many  involve  them- 
selves in  embarrassment  and  disgrace  ;  and  that  is,  nev- 
er to  give  a  promise,  which  may  interfere  in  the  event 
with  their  duty  ;  for,  if  it  do  so  interfere,  their  duty 
must  be  discharged,  though  at  the  expense  of  their  pro- 
mise, and  not  unusually  of  their  good  name. 

It  is  the  performance  being  unlawful,  and  not  any  un- 
lawfulness in  the  subject  or  motive  of  the  promise, 
w  hich  destro3^s  its  validity :  therefore  the  reward  of  any 
crime,  after  the  crime  is  committed,  ought,  if  promised, 
to  be  paid.  For  the  sin  and  mischief,  by  this  sujtposition, 
are  over ;  and  will  be  neither  more  nor  less  for  the  per- 
formance of  the  promise.  In  like  manner,  a  promise 
does  not  lose  its  obligation  merely  because  it  proceeded 
from  an  unlawful  motive. 

A  promise  cannot  be  deemed  unlawful,  where  it  pro- 
duces, when  performed,  no  effect,  beyond  what  would 
have  taken  place  had  the  promise  never  been  made. 
And  this  is  the  single  case,  in  which  the  obligation  of  a 
promise  will  justify  a  conduct,  which,  unless  it  had  been 
promised,  would  be  unjust.  A  captive  may  lawfully  re- 
cover his  liberty,  by  a  promise  of  neutrality ;  for  bis 
conqueror  takes  nothing  by  the  promise,  which  he 
might  not  have  secured  by  his  death  or  confinement ;  and 
neutrality  w^ould  be  innocent  in  him  although  criminal 
in  another.  It  is  manifest,  however,  that  promises 
which  come  into  the  place  of  coercion,  can  extend  no 
farther  than  to  passive  compliances ;  for  coercion  itself 
could  compel  no  more.  Upon  the  same  principle,  prom- 
ises of  secrecy  ought  not  to  be  violated,  although  the 
public  would  derive  advantage  from  the  discovery.  Such 
promises  contain  no  unlawfulness  in  them,  to  destroy  their 


194  PRACTICAL    ETHICS* 

obligation ;  for,  as  the  information  would  not  have  beeo 
imparted  upon  any  other  condition,  the  public  lose  noth- 
ing by  the  promise,  which  they  would  have  gained  with- 
out it. 

3.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  they  contradict  a 
former  promise.  Because  the  performance  is  then  un- 
lawful ;  which  resolves  this  case  into  the  last 

4.  Promises  are  not  binding  before  acceptance.  Where 
the  promise  is  beneficial,  however,  if  notice  be  given, 
acceptance  may  be  presumed. 

5.  Promises  are  not  binding,  which  are  released  by  the 
promisee, 

6.  Erroneous  promises  are  not  binding  in  certain  ca- 
ses;   as, 

1.  Where  the  error  proceeds  from  the  mistake  or  mis- 
representation of  the  promisee. 

Because  a  promise  evidently  supposes  the  truth  of  the 
account,  which  the  promisee  relates  in  order  to  obtain  it. 
A  beggar  solicits  your  charity  by  a  story  of  the  most 
pitiable  distress — you  promise  to  relieve  him,  if  he  will 
call  again — in  the  interval  you  discover  his  story  to  be 
made  up  of  lies — this  discovery,  no  doubt,  releases  you 
from  your  promise.  One  wants  your  service,  describes 
the  business  or  office  for  which  he  would  engage  you — 
you  promise  to  undertake  it — when  you  come  to  enter 
upon  it,  you  iind  the  profits  less,  the  labor  more,  or  some 
material  circumstance  different  from  the  account  he  gave 
you. — In  such  case  you  are  not  bound  by  your  promise. 

2.  When  the  promise  is  understood  by  the  promisee 
to  proceed  upon  a  certain  supposition,  or  when  the  prom- 
iser  apprehended  it  to  be  so  understood,  and  that  suppo- 
sition turns  out  to  be  false  j  then  the  promise  is  not  bind- 
ing. 

This  intricate  rule  will  be  best  explained  by  an  exam- 
ple.    A  father  receives  an  account  from  abroad  of  the 


PROMISES.  ISA 

ileath  of  his  only  son, — soon  after  which  he  promises  his 
fortune  to  his  nephew. — The  account  turns  out  to  be. 
false. — The  father,  we  say,  is  released  from  his  promise  ; 
not  merely  because  he  never  would  have  made  it,  had 
he  known  the  truth  of  the  case, — for  that  alone  will  not 
do  ; — but  because  the  nephew  also  himself  understood 
the  promise  to  proceed  upon  the  supposition  of  his 
cousin's  death  ;  or  at  least  his  uncle  thought  he  so  under- 
stood it ;  and  could  not  think  otherwise.  The  promise 
proceeded  upon  this  supposition  in  the  promiser's  own 
apprehension,  and,  as  he  believed,  in  the  apprehension 
of  both  parties  ;  and  this  belief  of  his  is  the  precise  cir- 
cumstance which  sets  him  free.  The  foundation  of  the 
rule  is  plainly  this ;  a  man  is  bound  only  to  satisfy  the 
expectation  which  he  intended  to  excite  ;  whatever  con- 
dition, therefore,  he  intended  to  subject  that  expectation 
to,  becomes  an  essential  condition  of  the  promise. 

Errors,  which  come  not  within  this  description,  do  not 
annul  the  obligation  of  a  promise.  A  father  promises  a 
certain  fortune  with  his  daughter ;  but  his  circumstances 
turn  out,  upon  examination,  worse  than  he  was  aware  of. 
Here  the  promise  was  erroneous,  but  will  nevertheless 
be  obligatory. 

It  has  long  been  controverted  among  moralists,  wheth- 
er promises  are  binding,  which  are  extorted  by  violence 
or  fear.  The  obligation  of  all  promises  results,  we  have 
seen,  from  the  necessity  or  the  use  of  that  confidence 
which  mankind  repose  in  them.  The  question,  there- 
fore, whether  these  promises  are  binding,  will  depend 
upon  this,  whether  mankind,  upon  the  whole,  are  bene- 
fitted by  the  confidence  placed  in  such  promises.  A 
highwayman  attacks  you, — aid  being  disappointed  of  his 
booty,  threatens  or  prepares  to  murder  you;  you  prom- 
ise, with  many  solemn  asseverations,  that  if  he  will  spare 


106  PRACTICAL     ETHICS. 

your  life,  he  shall  find  a  purse  of  money  left  for  him,  at 
a  place  appointed ;  upon  the  faith  of  this  promise,  he 
forbears  from  farther  violence.  Now  your  life  was  sav- 
ed by  the  confidence  reposed  in  a  promise  extorted  by 
fear ;  and  the  lives  of  many  others  may  be  saved  by  the 
same.  This  is  a  good  consequence.  On  the  other  hand, 
confidence  in  promises  like  these  greatly  facilitates  the 
perpetration  of  robberies.  They  may  be  made  the  in- 
struments of  almost  unlimited  extortion.  This  is  a  bad 
consequence ;  and  in  the  question  between  the  import- 
ance of  these  opposite  consequences,  resides  the  doubt 
concerning  the  obligation  of  such  promises. 

Vows  are  promises  to  God.  The  obligation  cannot  be 
made  out  upon  the  same  principle  as  that  of  other  prom- 
ises. The  violation  of  them,  nevertheless,  implies  a 
want  of  reverence  to  the  Supreme  Being ;  which  iiB 
enough  to  make  it  sibful. 

There  appears  no  command  or  encouragement  in  the 
Christian  Scriptures  to  make  vows ;  much  less  any  au- 
thority to  break  through  them  when  they  are  made. 
The  rules  we  have  laid  down  concerning  promises,  are 
applicable  to  vows."* 

The  student  may  be  requested  to  solve  the  following 
questions,  stating,  in  each  case,  the  reasons  of  his  decision. 

1.  Was  Jephthah's  vow  binding,  taken  in  the  sense  in 
which  that  transaction  is  commonly  understood  ?  See 
Judges,  xi.  30—40. 

2.  Was  Herod's  promise  to  his  daughter-in-law  bind- 
ing ?    Matt.  xiv. 

3.  A  man,  in  the  life  time  of  his  wife,  pays  his  addres- 
ses, and  promises  marriage,  to  another  \yoman.  His 
wife  dying,  the  woman  demands  the  performance  of  the 
promise.     Is  he  bound  to  perform  it  ? 


*  Paley*s  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  III.  Pan  I.  Chap.  5, 


CONTRACtS.  197 

4.  "  I  have  promised  to  bestow  a  sum  of  money  upon 
some  good  and  respectable  purpose.  In  the  interval  be- 
tween the  promise  and  my  fulfilling  it,  a  greater  and  no- 
bler purpose  offers  itself,  which  calls  with  an  imperious 
voice  for  my  co-operation.  Which  ought  I  to  prefer  ?*' — 
Godwin, 

5.  It  is  a  common  saying,  that  "  a  bad  promise  is  bet- 
ter broke  than  kept."  What  is  the  tendency  of  this  max- 
im ?  In  what  sense  is  it  correct  ?  and  in  what  incorrect  ? 


CHAFTZSR  XIV. 

Conti^acts. 

"  A  contract  is  a  mutual  promise.  The  obligation, 
therefore,  of  contracts ;  the  sense  in  which  they  are  to 
be  interpreted;  and  the  cases  where  they  are  not  binding, 
will  be  the  same  as  of  promises. 

From  the  principle  established  in  the  last  chapter, 
'  that  the  oblig-ition  of  promises  is  to  be  measured  by  the 
expectation  which  the  promiser  any-how  voluntarily  and 
knowingly  excites,'  results  a  rule,  which  governs  the  con- 
struction of  all  contracts,  and  is  capable,  from  its  simpli- 
city, of  being  applied  with  great  ease  and  certainty,  viz. 
That, 

Whatever  is  expected  by  one  side^  and  known  to  he  so  ex- 
pected  by  the  other^  is  to  be  deemed  a  part  or  condition  of 
the  contract.'^''^ 

I.  '*•  Contracts  of  Sale.  The  rule  of  justice  which 
needs  with  the  most  anxiety  to  be  inculcated  in  the  mak- 
ing of  bargains,  is,  that  the  seller  is  bound  in  conscience 


*  Paley's  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  III.  Part  L  Chap.  6. 
R  2 


195  PRACTICAL   ETHiCSi 

to  disclose  the  faults  of  what  he  offers  for  sale.  Among 
other  methods  of  proving  this,  one  may  be  the  following. 

I  suppose  it  will  be  allowed,  that  to  advance  a  direct 
falsehood  in  recommendation  of  our  wares,  by  ascribing 
to  them  some  quality  which  we  know  that  they  have  not, 
is  dishonest.  Now  compare  with  this  the  designed  con- 
cealment of  some  fault,  which  we  know  that  ihey  have. 
The  motives  and  the  effects  of  actions  are  the  only  points 
of  comparison,  in  which  their  moral  quality  can  differ ; 
but  the  motives  in  these  two  cases  are  the  same,  viz.  to 
procure  a  higher  price  than  we  expect  otherwise  to  ob- 
tain :  the  effect,  that  is,  the  prejudice  to  the  buyer,  is  al- 
so the  same ;  for  he  finds  himself  equally  out  of  pocket 
by  his  bargain,  whether  the  commodity,  when  he  gets 
home  with  it,  turn  out  worse  than  he  had  supposed,  by 
the  want  of  some  quality  which  he  expected,  or  the  dis- 
covery of  some  fault  which  he  did  not  expect.  If,  there- 
fore, actions  are  the  same,  as  to  all  moral  purposes,  which 
proceed  from  the  same  motives,  and  produce  the  same 
effects,  it  is  making  a  distinction  without  a  difference,  to 
esteem  it  a  cheat  to  magnify  beyond  the  truth  the  virtues 
of  what  we  have  to  sell,  but  none  to  conceal  its  faults. 

It  adds  to  the  value  of  this  kind  of  honesty,  that  the 
faults  of  many  things  are  of  a  nature  not  to  be  known  by 
any,  but  by  the  persons  who  have  used  them :  so  that 
the  buyer  has  no  security  from  imposition,  but  in  the  in- 
genuousness and  integrity  of  the  seller. 

To  this  of  concealing  the  faults  of  what  we  want  to 
put  off,  may  be  referred  the  practice  of  passing  bad  mo- 
ney. This  practice  we  sometimes  hear  defended  by  a 
vulgar  excuse,  that  we  have  taken  the  money  for  good, 
and  must  therefore  get  rid  of  it.  Which  excuse  is  much 
the  samp  as  if  one^  who  had  been  robbed  upon  the  high- 
way, should  allege  that  he  had  a  right  to  reimburse  him- 
self out  of  the  pocket  of  the  first  traveller  he  met  j  the 


CONTRACTS.  199 

justice  of  which  reasoning  the  traveller  possibly  might 
not  comprehend. 

If  the  thing  sohl  be  damaged,  or  perish,  between  the 
sale  and  the  delivery,  ought  the  buyer  to  bear  the  loss, 
or  the  seller?  This  will  depend  upon  the  particular  con- 
struction of  the  contract,  if  the  seller,  either  expressly, 
or  by  implication,  or  by  custom,  engage  to  deliver  the 
goods  ;  as  if  I  buy  a  set  of  china,  and  the  china-man  ask 
me  to  what  place  he  shall  bring  or  send  them,  and  they 
be  broken  in  the  conveyance,  the  seller  must  abide  by 
the  loss.  If  the  thing  sold  remain  with  the  seller,  at  the 
instance  or  for  the  convenience  of  the  buyer,  then  the 
buyer  undertakes  the  risk ;  as  if  1  buy  a  horse,  and  men- 
tion, that  1  will  send  for  it  on  such  a  day,  which  is  in  effect 
desiring  that  it  may  continue  with  the  seller  till  I  do  send 
for  it,  then,  whatever  misibrtune  befalls  the  horse  in  the 
mean  time,  must  be  at  my  cost. 

And  here,  once  tor  all,  I  would  observe,  that  innumera- 
ble questions  of  this  sort  are  determined  solely  by  custom  ; 
not  that  custom  possesses  any  proper  authority  to  alter  or 
ascertain  the  nature  of  right  and  wrong  ;  but  because  the 
contracting  parlies  are  presumed  to  include  in  their  stip- 
ulation, all  the  conditions  which  custom  has  annexed  to 
contracts  of  the  same  sort ;  and  when  the  usage  is  noto- 
rious, and  no  exception  made  to  it,  this  presumption  is 
generally  agreeable  to  the  fact."* 

II.  "  Contracts  oj  Hazard.  In  speculations  in  trade,  or 
in  the  stocks,  if  1  exercise  my  judgment  upon  the  general 
aspect  and  posture  of  public  affairs,  and  deal  with  a  per- 
son who  conducts  himsell  by  the  same  sort  of  judgment, 
the  contract  has  all  the  equality  in  it  which  is  necessary  ! 
but  if  1  have  access  to  secrets  of  state  at  home,  or  private 
advice  of  some  decisive  measure  or  event  abroad,  1  can- 


*Paley's  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  III.  Part  I.  Chap.  7. 


200  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

not  avail  myself  of  these  advantages  with  justice,  be- 
caufe  they  are  exchided  by  the  contract,  which  proceed- 
ed upon  the  supposition,  that  I  had  no  such  advantage. 

In  insurances,  in  which  the  underwriter  computes  his 
risk  entirely  from  the  account  given  by  the  person  insur- 
ed, it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  justice  and  validity  of 
the  contract,  that  this  account  be  exact  and  complete."* 

111.  "  Contracts  of  Lending  Inconsumable  Property.  When 
the  identical  loan  ii  to  be  returned^  as  a  book,  a  horse,  a 
harpsichord,  it  is  called  inconsumable^  in  opposition  to 
corn,  wine,  money,  and  those  things  which  perish,  or  are 
parted  with  in  the  use,  and  can  therefore  only  be  restored 
in  kind. 

The  questions  under  this  head  are  few  and  simple^ 
The  first  is,  if  the  thing  lent  be  lost  or  damaged,  who 
ought  to  bear  the  loss  or  damage  ?  If  it  be  damaged  by 
the  use,  or  by  accident  in  the  use,  for  which  it  was  lent, 
the  lender  ought  to  bear  it ;  as  if  I  hire  a  job  coach,  the 
wear,  tear,  and  soiling  of  the  coach,  must  belong  to  the 
lender ;  or  a  horse  to  go  a  particular  journey,  and  in  go- 
ing the  proposed  journey,  the  horse  die,  or  he  be  lamed, 
the  loss  must  be  the  lenders  :  on  the  contrary,  if  the 
damage  be  occasioned  by  the  fault  of  the  borrower,  or 
by  accident  in  some  use  for  which  it  was  not  lent,  then 
the  borrower  must  make  it  good. 

The  two  cases  are  distinguished  by  this  circumstance, 
that  in  one  case,  the  owner  foresees  the  damage  or  risk, 
and  therefore  consents  to  undertake  it ;  in  the  other  case, 
he  does  not. 

It  is  possible  that  an  estate  or  a  house  may,  during  the 
term  of  a  lease,  be  so  increased  or  diminished  in  its  val- 
ue, as  to  become  worth  much  more,  or  much  less,  than 
the  rent  agreed  to  be  paid  for  it.     In  some  of  which  cas- 

*  Ibid,  Chap.  8. 


CONTRACTS.  201 

es  it  may  be  doubted,  to  whom,  of  natural  right,  the  ad- 
vantage or  disadvantage  belongs.  The  rule  of  justice 
seems  to  be  this  :  If  the  alteration  might  be  expected  by 
the  parties,  the  hirer  must  take  the  consequences  ;  if  it 
could  not,  the  owner."* 

IV.  "  Contracts  concerning  the  Lending  of  Money, — 
The  rate  of  interest  has  in  most  countries  been  regulat- 
ed by  law.  The  policy  of  these  regulations  is  to  check 
the  power  of  accumulating  wealth,  without  industry  ;  and 
to  give  encouragement  to  trade,  by  enabling  adventurers 
in  it  to  borrow  money  at  a  moderate  price  ;  and  of  late 
years,  to  enable  the  state  to  borrow  the  subject's  money 
itself. 

Compound  interest,  though  forbidden  by  the  law  of 
England,  is  agreeable  enough  to  natural  equity  ;  for  in- 
terest detained  after  it  is  due,  becomes,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  part  of  the  sum  lent. 

\^  hoever  borrows  money,  is  bound  in  conscience  to  re- 
pay it.  This  every  man  can  see  ;  but  every  man  cannot 
see,  or  does  not  however  reflect,  that  he  is,  in  conse- 
quence, also  bound  to  use  the  means  necessary  to  enable 
himself  to  repay  it. 

As  to  the  imprisonment  of  insolvent  debtors,  if  we 
consider  it  as  a  public  punishment,  founded  upon  the 
same  reason,  and  subject  to  the  same  rules,  as  other  pun- 
ishments, the  justice  of  it,  together  with  the  degree  to 
which  it  should  be  extended,  and  the  objects  upon  whom 
it  may  be  inflicted,  will  be  apparent."  t 

V.  "  Coniracts  of  Labor,  1.  Service.  Service  ought 
always  to  be  voluntary,  and  by  contract  ;  and  the  master's 
authority  to  extend  no  farther  than  the  terms  or  equita- 
ble construction  of  the  contract  will  justify. 

Clerks  and  apprentices  ought  to  be  employed  entirely 
in  the  profession  or   trade  which    they   are  intended  to 


*  Ibid.  Chap.  9.  f  Ibid  Chap.  10. 


202  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

learn.  Instruction  is  their  hire  ;  and  to  deprive  them  of 
the  opportunities  of  instruction,  by  taking  up  their  time 
with  occupations  foreign  to  their  business,  is  to  defraad 
them  of  their  wages. 

The  master  is  responsible  for  what  a  servant  does  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  his  employment  ;  for  it  is  done 
under  a  general  authority  committed  to  him,  which  is  in 
justice  equivalent  to  a  specific  direction. 

A  master  of  a  family  is  culpable,  if  he  permits  any  vi- 
ces among  his  domestics,  which  he  might  restrain  by  due 
discipline  and  a  proper  interference.  This  results  from 
the  general  obligation  to  prevent  misery  when  in  our 
power  ;  and  the  assurance  which  we  have,  that  vice  and 
misery  at  the  long  run  go  together.  Care  to  maintain  in 
his  family  a  sense  of  virtue  and  religion,  received  the  di- 
vine approbation  in  the  person  of  Abraham,  Gen.  xviii. 
19.  "i  know  him,  that  he  wiil  command  his  children, 
and  his  household  after  him  ;  and  they  shall  keep  the  way 
of  the  Lord,  to  do  justice  and  judgment."* 

2.  "  Commissions.  Whoevrr  undertakes  another  man's 
business,  makes  it  his  own,  that  is,  promises  to  employ 
upon  it  the  same  care,  attention,  and  diligence,  that  he 
would  do  if  it  were  actually  his  own  :  for  he  knows  that  the 
business  was  committed  to  him  with  that  expectation. 

The  agent  may  be  a  sufferer  in  his  own  person  or  prop- 
erty by  the  business  which  he  undertakes  ;  as  where  one 
goes  a  journey  for  another,  and  lames  his  horse,  or  is  hurt 
himself,  by  a  fall  upon  the  road  ;  can  the  agent  in  such 
case  claim  a  compensation  for  the  misfortune  ?  Unless 
the  same  be  provided  for  by  express  stipulation,  the 
agent  is  not  entitled  to  any  compensation  from  his  em- 
ployer on  that  account  :  for  whoever  knowingly  under- 
takes a  dangerous  emplcyment,  in  common  construction, 
takes  upon  himsell  the  danger  and  the  consequences/'t 


*  Jbid.  Chap.  11.  f  Ibid  Chap.  12. 


(  203  ) 

OHAFTER  XV. 

Lies. 

"  A  lie  is  a  breach  of  promise  :  for  whoever  seriously 
addresses  his  discourse  to  another,  tacitly  promises  to 
speak  the  truth,  because  he  knows  the  truth  is  expected. 

Or  the  obligation  of  veracity  may  be  made  out  from 
the  direct  ill  consequences  of  lying  to  social  happiness. 
These  consequences  consist,  either  in  some  specific  inju- 
ry to  particular  individuals,  or  in  the  destruction  of  that 
cottfidence,  which  is  essential  to  the  intercourse  of  hu- 
man life  :  for  which  latter  reason,  a  lie  may  be  perni- 
cious in  its  general  tendency,  and  therefore  criminal, 
though  it  produce  no  particular  or  visible  mischief  to  any 
one. 

There  are  falsehoods  which  are  not  lies ;  that  is,  which 
are  not  criminal ;  as, 

1.  Where  no  one  is  deceived;  which  is  the  case  in 
parables  and  fables. 

2.  Where  the  person  to  whom  you  speak  has  no  right 
to  know  the  truth,  or,  moro  properly,  where  little  or  no 
inconvenience  results  from  the  want  of  confidence  in  such 
cases  ;  as  where  you  tell  a  falsehood  to  a  madman,  for  his 
own  advantage  ;  to  a  robber,  to  conceal  your  property  ; 
to  an  assassin,  to  defeat  or  divert  him  from  his  purpose. 
The  particular  consequence  is,  by  the  supposition,  benefi- 
cial ;  and,  as  to  the  general  consequence,  the  worst  that 
can  happen  is,  that  the  madman,  the  robber,  the  assassin, 
will  not  trust  you  again  ;  which  (beside  that  the  first  ii 
incapable  of  deducing  regular  conclusions  from  having 
been  once  deceived,  and  the  two  last  not  likely  to  come  a 
second  time  in  your  way)  is  sufficiently  compensated  by 
the  immediate  benefit  which  you  propose  by  the  false- 
hood.'^ 


204  PRACTICAL    BTHICS. 

Such  is  the  language  of  Dr.  Paley.  It  may  be  ques- 
tioned,  however,  whether  he  has  allowed  sufficient  weight 
to  the  "  general  consequence"  in  regard  to  the  duty  of 
keeping  a  promise,*  and  speaking  the  truth  to  a  robber 
or  an  assassin.  If  there  is  indeed  no  obligation  in 
such  cases,  then  the  subject  ought  to  be  so  understood  by 
the  public,  and  all  men  ought  to  practice  accordingly. 
That  which  it  is  right  for  an  individual  to  do,  it  is  right 
for  all  to  do  in  similar  circumstances.  But  as  soon  as  this 
sentiment  and  practice  become  universal  or  general,  rob- 
bers and  assassins  will  cease  to  repose  confidence  in 
promises  and  declarations  that  are  made  to  them;  and 
many  lives  will  be  lost,  which  might  otherwise  be  saved. 
How  much  property^  let  me  ask,  must  be  saved,  to  be  an 
equivalent  for  the  lives  thus  lost  ?  And  just  in  proportion 
as  the  sentiment  1  am  opposing  prevails,  just  so  far  is  this 
evil  produced.  If  I  were  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  an 
highwayman,  I  should  hope  he  had  not  read  Faley's  Phi- 
losophy, lest  he  should  suspect  me  to  be  of  the  same 
sentiment. 

"  The  worst  consequence  that  can  happen,"  says  Dr. 
Paley,  "  is,  that  the  robber  or  assassin  will  not  trust  you 
again ;  and  they  are  not  likely  to  come  a  second  time  in 
your  way."  But  they  are  likely  to  come  in  somebody^s 
way ;  and  if  they  have  been  deceived  once,  they  will  be 
the  more  likely  to  refuse  their  confidence  to  the  next 
man  they  meet.  If  they  have  been  deceived  repeatedly, 
they  will  most  certainly  trust  no  man  any  more.  Shall  i 
endanger  the  lives  of  my  neighbors^  for  the  sake  of  saving 
a  little  property  ?  This  may  be  consistent  enough  with 
a  system  of  ethics,  which  makes  the  very  essence  of  vir- 
tue to  consist  in  supreme  selfishness  ;  but  it  is  repugnant 
to  the  benevolent  spirit  of  the  gospel. — Besides,  it  is 

»Seep.l95. 


LIES,  505, 

possible  that  the  tobher  may  come  in  my  way  again.  He 
may  even  seek  me  out  of  revenge  for  the  deception  I 
have  practised  upon  him.  How  much  property  must  I 
save  by  falsehood,  to  be  "  sufficiently  compensated"  for 
the  danger  to  which  my  life  would  thus  be  exposed  ? 

But  supposing  that  property  may  he  so  concealed  by 
telling  a  falsehood,  that  the  robber  shall  never  discov- 
er the  deception,  is  not  falsehood  justifiable  then? 
No;  for,  in  the  first  place,  I  cannot  be  ccr^am  that  the 
deception  will  not  be  discovered,  if  the  property  in 
question  be  about  my  person,  or  my  carriage,  the  robber 
may  make  trial  of  my  integrity  by  searching  for  it ;  and 
when  he  finds  it,  may  stab  me  to  the  heart  through  indig- 
nation at  the  lie  I  have  told  him.  Even  robbers  have  a 
sense  of  the  baseness  of  deception, — especially  when  it 
is  practised  upon  themselves.  In  the  second  place,  "  if 
I  have  been  habitually  accustomed  to  regard  a  lie  with 
abhorrence,  it  is  extremely  improbable  that  I  shall  be 
able  to  tell  one,  in  such  circumstances,  with  that  firmness 
and  freedom  from  embarrassment,  which  will  make  it  ef- 
fectual."* And  in  the  third  place,  if  the  lie  be  successful^ 
it  may  eventually  do  me  more  harm,  than  the  loss  of 
property  or  even  of  life  :  it  will  almost  inevitably  weak- 
en my  general  respect  for  truth. 

We  have  been  considering  the  lawfulness  of  violating 
truth  for  the  sake  of  saving  property.  It  is  a  more  difl&- 
cult  question,  whether  truth  may  be  violated  by  a  person 
who  is  placed  in  a  situation  where  a  lie  appears  to  be 
the  only  means  of  saving  his  life.  This  question,  too. 
must,  I  think,  be  answered  in  the  negative.  *'  Instances 
continually  occur,  in  which  men  risk  their  lives,  in  va- 
rious ways,  to  defend  their  property ;  but  if  it  is  justifia- 
ble to  avoid  such  risk,  where  truth  must  for  this  purpose 


♦Recs's  Cyclopedia. 


206  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

be  violated,  then  truth  is  to  he  regarded  as  of  less  Talue 
than  money."*  Besides,  "  if  it  is  right  to  preserve  life 
by  falsehood,  it  must  be  wrong  to  forfeit  it  by  adher- 
ence to  truth ;  and  yet,  we  conceive  there  are  few  who 
would  not  cordially  approve  and  admire  the  conduct  of 
him,  who,  in  such  circumstances,  followed  truth  at  the 
certain  risk  of  his  life.  As  far  as  his  conduct  is  known, 
it  necessarily  tends  to  produce  a  steady  love  of  duty,  a 
decided  attachment  to  principle.  As  far  as  the  conduct 
of  one  who  has  preserved  his  life  by  a  violation  of  truth, 
is  known,  and  regarded  as  justifiable,  it  tends  to  weaken 
the  sense  of  the  obligation  of  a  virtue,  which  is  of  the 
first  importance  to  the  well-being  of  society."* 

In  the  preceding  remarks,  I  have  rested  the  argument 
entirely  on  human  reason  and  experience.  If  there 
were  need  of  it,  the  argument  might  be  confirmed  by 
the  infallible  authority  of  the  word  of  God,t 

"  If  any  one  should  be  exposed  to  a  trial  so  severe  as 
what  we  have  been  considering,  let  him  call  to  mind,  that 
there  is  something  more  valuable  than  life  and  every  ex- 
ternal means  of  comfort, — the  approbation  of  our  own 
hearts,  and  the  present  and  final  approbation  of  Him  who 
is  greater  than  the  heart."J 

As  to  telling  a  falsehood  to  a  madman^  it  seems  to  be 
a  case  of  a  totally  different  kind.  The  prohibitions  of 
scripture  seem  hardly  applicable  to  our  conduct  toward 
such  a  man,  since  he  cannot  be  regarded  as  a  moral  agent. 
The  only  general  consequences  to  be  apprehended,  ap- 
pear to  be  the  two  following:  First,  if  those  who  have 
the  care  of  madmen,  very  frequently  practice  deception 
upon  them,  there  is  some  danger  of  their  forming  a  habit 


*  Rees's  Cyclopedia. 

f  See  p.  SL     See  also  Deut.  xxxii.  4;  Eph.  iv.  25  ;  Col.  iii.  9  ;  1  Tim. 
iv.  2;  Rev.  xx'.  8;  xxii.  15. 
\  Rees's  Cyclopedia. 


LIES. 


207 


of  deception,  and  sometimes  practising  it  upon  others  * 
Secondly,  if  children  were  to  see  deception  practised  upon 
mad  people,  it  might  produce  a  bad  effect  upon  them. 
After  allowing  due  weight  to  these  considerations,  the 
only  question  appears  to  be,  Whether  the  madman  can, 
on  the  whole,  be  managed  to  better  advantage  with  the 
help  of  deception,  than  without  it. 

The  lawfulness  of  deception  in  war^  is  another  diffi- 
cult case.  As  it  is  allowed  by  the  laws  of  war,  and  it  is 
so  understood,  there  seems  to  be  no  unfairness  in  it.  But 
would  it  not  be  equally  fair  for  the  contending  parties, 
and  more  to  the  honor  of  the  nations  of  the  earth,  if 
"  the  laws  of  war^'  were  so  amended^  as  to  forbid  the 
practice  of  ^deception  ?  At  any  rate,  if  deception  is  ne- 
cessary, and  for  that  reason  justifiable,  in  war,  we  can 
only  say,  that  war  itself  is  unlawful ;  that  the  engaging 
in  it,  except  for  the  defence  of  life  or  liberty,  is  a  crime 
of  the  deepest  die  ;  and  that,  therefore,  we  need  not 
wonder,  if  one  crime  draws  another  in  its  train. 

One  or  two  cases  remain,  not  mentioned  by  Dr.  Paley. 
Many,  in  their  intercourse  with  children^  seem  to  feel 
released  from  the  obligation  of  truth  and  sincerity.  This 
probably  arises  from  an  idea,  that  the  tendency  of  deceiv- 
ing them  is  not  hurtful,  as  in  the  case  of  adults.  But  this 
is  an  unhappy  mistake.  The  practice  of  deceiving  chil- 
dren is  productive  of  the  most  pernicious  consequences. 
The  formation  of  their  character  commences,  at  least 
as  soon  as  they  are  capable  of  being  deceived  ;  and  an 
acquaintance  with  the  elementary  principles  of  educa- 
tion, must  impress  on  the  mind  of  every  one  the  convic- 
tion, that  in  our  intercourse  with  children,  even  in  their 
earliest  years,  the  strictest  truth  and  sincerity  oug^ht  to 
be  observed. 

♦See  p.  8a 


208  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

There  is  one  case  more,  in  which  many  think  it  right 
to  deceive.  It  sometimes  happens  that  the  life  of  a  sick 
person  would  be  apparently  endangered,  by  his  being 
made  acquainted  with  some  event,  which  yet  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  conceal  from  him  without  telling  a  falsehood.  On 
this  subject  I  would  offer  the  following  remarks. 

1.  It  may  be  presumed,  that  in  most  instances  of  the 
kind,  the  event  may,  by  proper  caution,  be  concealed 
without  resorting  to  falsehood. 

2.  The  news  in  question  may  have  a  different  effect 
on  the  sick  person  from  what  is  commonly  apprehended. 
But  of  this  a  physician  is  the  most  competent  judge. 

3.  If  any  curiosity  or  suspicion  is  excited  in  the  sick 
person,  it  is  seldom  that  the  attendants  can  completely 
remove  it,  even  by  the  aid  of  direct  falsehood.  The 
countenance,  tone,  and  manner,  will  often  contradict 
the  tongue.  It  may  therefore  be  better  for  the  patient, 
to  make  to  him  a  gradual  disclosure  of  the  truth,  than  to 
let  him  suffer  the  anxiety  and  agitation  of  suspicion  and 
suspense. 

4.  If  it  is  admitted,  that  it  is  right  to  deceive  the  sick, 
for  their  benefit,  this  maxim  will  be  remembered  on  the 
sick-bed.  The  sick  person  will  thus  be  led  to  feel  a  con- 
tinual distrust  of  those  about  him,  even  when  they  speak 
the  truth.  This  is  a  general  bad  consequence,  which 
seems  sufficient  to  overbalance  the  particular  good  con- 
sequence that  might  be  hoped  for  in  the  few  cases  where 
it  might  seem  necessary  to  practise  deception. 

5.  "  Deceiving  the  sick  contributes  greatly,  and  almost 
inevitably,  and  far  bej'ond  usual  estimation,  to  lessen  the 
regard  to  truth  in  those  around  us."*  And  it  must  pro- 
duce the  same  effect  upon  ourselves,  even  when  it  is  un- 
known to  others. 


*  Rees^s  Cyclopedia, 


LIES. 


209 


Finally,  let  us  remember,  that  it  can  hardly  meet  the 
approbation  of  the  God  of  Truth,  in  whose  hand,  and  at 
whose  disposal  the  sick  person  is,  that  we  should  resort 
to  falsehood  or  deception  as  a  means  of  prolonging  life. 

As  the  evil  of  lying  consists  in  the  deception^  it  follows, 
that  any  mode  whatever  of  deceiving,  involves  the  guilt 
of  lying.  Exaggeration  and  misrepresentation  in  relating 
a  fact  or  telling  a  story,  are  as  bad  as  downright  lying; 
and  sometimes  worse,  because  the  mixture  of  truth  in 
the  narrative,  is  more  likely  to  gain  credit  to  the  whole. 
Many  people  indulge  in  fiction  and  exaggeration  in  tel- 
ling stories,  for  the  sake  of  affording  amusement  or  ex- 
citing wonder,  thinking  there  can  be  no  harm  in  it,  as  it 
makes  no  difference  to  any  body  whether  what  they  tell 
be  true  or  false.  But  harm  may  sometimes  follow,  which 
is  not  foreseen.  Besides,  such  a  habit  cannot  but  dimin- 
ish the  confidence  that  is  placed  in  one's  veracity.  And 
what  is  more,  the  habit  has  a  pernicious  efi'ect  on  the 
person  himself,  "I  have  seldom,"  says  Dr.  Paley, 
"  known  any  one  who  deserted  truth  in  trifles,  that  could 
be  trusted  in  matters  of  importance." 

Again,  every  species  of  equivocation  involves  the  guilt 
of  lying.  "  It  is  the  wilful  deceit  that  makes  the  lie  ; 
and  we  wilfully  deceive,  when  our  expressions  are  not 
true  in  the  sense  in  which  we  believe  the  hearer  to  ap- 
prehend them  :  besides  that  it  is  absurd  to  contend  for 
any  sense  of  words  in  opposition  to  usage;  for  all  senses 
of  all  words  are  founded  upon  usage,  and  upon  nothing 
else. 

Or  a  man  may  act  a  lie  ;  as  by  pointing  his  finger  in  a 
wrong  direction,  when  a  traveller  inquires  of  him  his 
road  :  for  to  all  moral  purfioses,  and  therefore  as  to  ve- 
racity, speech  and  action  are  the  same  ;  speech  being  on- 
ly a  mode  of  action. 

s2 


210  1»RACTICAL    ETHICS* 

Or,  lastly,  there  may  be  lies  of  omimo^i.''*  When  a 
man  professes,  or  means  to  be  understood,  to  tell  the 
whole  truth  on  any  subject,  the  intentional  concealment 
of  any  part,  involves  all  the  guilt  of  direct  lying.  The 
case  of  Ananias  and  Sapphira  is  in  point.  Their  crime 
consisted,  not  in  keeping  back  a  part  of  the  price  of  the 
land,  but  in  professing  to  lay  the  whole  at  the  apostles' 
feet.  When  Sapphira  was  interrogated  whether  they 
sold  the  land  for  ^  so  much,'  she  replied  in  the  affirma- 
tive. How  many  there  are  who  practice  equivocation 
of  the  same  kind  ;  and  some, — palpably  base  as  the  sub- 
terfuge is, — even  pretend  to  justify  themselves,  saying, 
"I  did  not  tell  a  lie ;  1  did  sell  the  land  for  50  mwc^, — 
and  more."  Let  those  who  deceive  in  this  way,  compare 
their  case  with  that  of  Sapphira ;  and  learn  in  what 
light  their  equivocation  is  regarded  by  Him  who  search- 
eth  the  heart  and  who  cannot  be  deceived. 


CHiLFTXSR  XVX. 

Oaths, 

"  An  oath  is  the  calling  upon  God  to  witness,  i.  e.  to 
take  notice  of  what  we  say,  and  it  is  invoking  his  ven- 
geance, or  renouncing  his  favor,  if  what  we  say  be  false, 
or  what  we  promise  be  not  performed. 

Quakers  and  Moravians  refuse  to  swear  upon  any  occa- 
sion ;  founding  their  scruples  concerning  the  lawfulness 
of  oaths  upon  our  Savior's  prohibition.  Matt.  v.  34." 
'But  the  clause,  "  not  at  all"  is  to  be  read  in  connection 
with  what  follows:  "Swear  not  at  all,  either  by  the 


»  Paley'a  Mor.  Philos.  Book  III.  Pari  I.  Chap.  15. 


OATHS.  211 

heaven,  or  by  the  earth,^'  &c.'  It  is  well  known  that  the 
Greek  language  frequently  admits  two  negative  particles, 
where  the  English  admits  but  one.  '  Hence,  we  may 
conclude  that  our  Savior  meant  to  prohibit,  not  judicial 
oaths,  but  merely  such  forms  of  swearing  as  he  enume- 
rated, which  do  not  appear  ever  to  have  been  made  use 
of  among  the  Jews  injudicial  oaths.  St.  James's  words, 
ch.  6.  v.  12,  are  to  be  interpreted  in  the  same  way: 
"  Swear  not,  either  by  heaven,  or  by  earth,  or  by  any 
oath  of  the  kind." 

The  guilt  of  perjury  is  greater  than  that  of  lying,  be- 
cause it  is  a  sin  of  greater  deliberation,  and  in  defiance 
of  the  sanctions  of  religion  ;  and  also  because  it  violates 
a  superior  confidence,  and  therefore,  in  its  general  con- 
sequence, strikes  at  the  security  of  reputation,  property, 
and  even  of  life  itself  "  it  merits  public  consideration, 
however,  whether  the  requiring  of  oaths  on  so  many 
frivolous  occasions,  especially  in  the  customs,  and  in  the 
qualification  for  petty  offices,  has  any  other  effect,  than 
to  make  them  cheap  in  the  minds  of  the  people."* 

For  the  sense  in  which  oaths  are  to  be  interpreted, 
and  the  cases  in  which  they  are  not  binding,  see  the  chap- 
ter on  Promises. 

"  In  taking  an  "  Oath  in  evidence,"  the  witness  swears 
"  to  speak  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but 
the  truth,  touching  the  matter  in  question."  Upon  which 
it  may  be  observed,  that  the  designed  concealment  of  any 
truth,  which  relates  to  the  matter  in  agitation,  is  as  much 
a  violation  of  the  oath,  as  to  testify  a  positive  falsehood; 
and  this  whether  the  witness  be  interrogated  on  that 
particular  point  or  not."t 


^  Ibid.  Chap.  16.        f  Ibid.  Chap.  17. 


(  212) 

CHAFTXiR  XVXX. 

Wills. 

"  Many  beneficial  purposes  are  attained  by  extending 
the  owner's  power  over  his  property  beyond  his  lile,  and 
beyond  his  natural  right.  It  invites  to  industry,  encour- 
ages naarriage,  and  secures  the  dutifulness  and  depend- 
ency of  children. 

From  the  consideration  that  wills  are  the  creatures  of 
the  municipal  law  which  gives  them  their  efficacy,  may 
be  deduced  a  determination  of  the  question,  whether  the 
intention  of  the  testator  in  an  informal  will  be  binding 
upon  the  conscience  of  those,  who,  by  operation  of  law, 
succeed  to  his  estate.  By  an  informal  will^  I  mean  a  will 
Toid  in  law,  for  want  of  some  requisite  formality,  though 
no  doubt  be  entertained  of  its  meaning  or  authenticity. 

Generally  speaking,  the  heir  at  law  is  not  bound  by 
the  intention  of  the  testator.  For  the  intention  can  sig- 
nify nothing,  unless  the  person  intending  have  a  right  to 
govern  the  descent  of  the  estate.  That  is  the  first  ques- 
tion Now  this  right  the  testator  can  only  derive  from 
the  law  of  the  land ;  but  the  law  confers  the  right  upon 
certain  conditions,  with  which  conditions  he  has  not  com- 
plied. Had  testamentary  dispositions  been  founded  in 
any  natural  right,  independent  of  positive  constitutions,  I 
should  have  thought  differently  of  this  question."* 


*  Ibid.  Chap.  23. 


(213) 

CHAFTER  XVUI. 

On  the  Conjugal  Relation. 

It  may  net  be  improper  to  introduce  the  present  chap- 
ter with  a  few  remarks  on  such  crimes,  resulting  from  the 
constitution  of  the  sexes,  as  may  be  committed  without 
entering  the  conjugal  relation.  The  remarks  that  follow, 
are  in  the  language  of  Dr.  Paley. 

I.  Fornication. 

"  The  following  are  some  of  the  mischiefs  of  promis- 
cuous concubinage. 

1.  Fornication  supposes  prostitution  ;  and  prostitution 
brings  and  leaves  the  victims  of  it  to  almost  certain  mis- 
ery. It  is  no  small  quantity  of  misery  in  the  aggregate, 
which,  between  want,  disease,  and  insult,  is  suffered  by 
those  outcasts  of  human  society,  who  infest  popular  cities; 
the  whole  of  which  is  a  general  consequence  of  fornication, 
and  to  the  increase  and  continuance  of  which,  every  in- 
stance of  fornication  contributes. 

2.  Fornication  produces  habits  of  ungovernable  lewd- 
ness, which  introduce  the  more  aggravated  crimes  of  se- 
duction, adultery,  violation,  &c.  Likewise, — however  it 
be  accounted  for, — the  criminal  commerce  of  the  sexes 
corrupts  and  depraves  the  mind  and  moral  character 
more  than  any  single  species  of  vice  whatsoever.  It  pre- 
pares an  easy  admission  for  every  sin  that  seeks  it ;  and 
is  usually  the  first  stage  in  men''s  progress  to  the  most 
desperate  villanies.  Add  to  this,  that  habits  of  libertinism 
incapacitate  and  indispose  the  mind  for  all  intellectual, 
moral,  and  religious  pleasures ;  which  is  a  great  loss  to 
any  man's  happiness. 


214  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

3.  Fornication  perpetuates  a  disease,  which  may  be 
accounted  one  of  the  sorest  maladies  of  human  nature  ; 
and  the  effects  of  which  are  said  to  visit  the  constitution 
of  even  distant  generations. 

The  christian  scriptures  condemn  fornication  absolute- 
ly and  peremptorily.  "  Out  of  the  heart,"  says  our 
Savior,  ^' proceed  evil  thoughts,  murders,  adulteries,/or- 
nications^  thefts,  false  witness,  blasphemies  ;  these  are 
the  things  which  defile  a  man."  These  are  Christ's  own 
words  J  and  one  word  from  him  upon  the  subject,  is 
final. 

If  fornication  is  criminal,  all  those  incentives  which 
lead  to  it,  are  accessaries  to  the  crime,  as  lascivious  cou- 
versation,  whether  expressed  in  obscene  or  disguised  un- 
der modest  phrases  ;  also  wanton  songs,  pictures,  books ; 
the  writing,  publishing  and  circulating  of  which,  wheth- 
er out  of  frolic,  or  for  some  pitiful  profit,  is  productive  of 
so  extensive  a  mischief  from  so  mean  a  temptation,  that 
few  crimes,  within  the  reach  of  private  wickedness,  have 
more  to  answer   for,   or  less  to  plead  in    their  excuse. 

The  invitation,  or  voluntary  admission,  of  impure 
thoughts,  or  the  suffering  tht  m  to  get  possession  of  the 
imagination,  tails  within  the  same  description,  and  is  con- 
demned by  Christ,  Matt  v.  28:  "  Whosoever  lookeih  on 
a  woman  to  lust  after  her,  hath  committed  adultery  with 
her  already  in  his  heart."  Christ,  by  thus  enjoining 
a  regulation  of  the  thoughts,  strikes  at  the  root  of  the 
evil."* 

11.  Seduction. 

"  Seduction  is  seldom  accomplished  without  fraud  j 
and  the  fraud  is  by  so  much  more  criminal  than  other 
frauds,  as  the  injury  effected  by  it  is  greater,  continues 
longer,  and  less  admits  of  reparation. 


*  Paley»s  Moral  Philos.  Book  III.  Part  III.  Chap.  2. 


eN   THE  CONJUGAL    RELATIOK.  216 

This  injury  is  threefold ;  to  the  woman,  to  her  family, 
and  to  the  public. 

The  injury  to  the  woman  is  made  up,  of  the  pain  she 
suffers  from  shame,  of  the  loss  she  sustains  in  her  reputa- 
tion and  prospects  of  marriage,  and  of  the  depravation  of 
her  moral  principle. 

This  pain  must  be  extreme,  if  we  may  judge  of  it  from 
those  barbarous  endeavors  to  conceal  their  disgrace,  to 
which  women,  under  such  circumstances,  sometimes  have 
recourse  ;  comparing  also  this  barbarity  with  their  pas- 
sionate fondness  for  their  offspring  in  other  cases.  No- 
thing but  an  agony  of  mind  the  naost  insupportable,  can 
induce  a  woman  to  forget  her  nature,  and  the  pity  which 
even  a  stranger  would  show  to  a  helpless  and  imploring 
infant.  It  is  true,  that  all  are  not  urged  to  this  extremity; 
but  if  any  are,  it  affords  an  indication  of  how  much  all 
suffer  from  the  same  cause.  What  shall  we  say  to  the 
authors  of  such  mischief? 

The  loss^  which  a  woman  sustains  by  the  ruin  of  her 
reputation,  almost  exceeds  computation. — The  loss  of 
her  chastity  is  also  generally  the  destruction  of  her  moral 
principle ;  and  this  consequence  is  to  be  apprehended, 
whether  the  criminal  intercourse  be  discovered  or  not. 

The  injury  to  the  family  may  be  understood,  by  the 
application  of  that  infallible  rule,  "  of  doing  to  others 
what  we  would  that  others  should  do  to  us."  Let  a  father 
or  a  brother  say,  for  what  consideration  he  would  suffer 
this  injury  to  a  daughter  or  a  sister  ;  and  whether  any,  or 
even  a  total  loss  of  fortune  could  create  equal  affliction 
and  distress. 

Upon  the  whole,  if  we  pursue  (he  effects  of  seduction 
through  the  complicated  misery  which  it  occasions  ;  and 
if  it  be  right  to  estimate  crimes  by  the  mischief  they 
knowingly  produce,  it  will  appear  something  mere  than 


216  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

mere  invective  to  assert,  that  not  one  half  of  the  crimes 
for  which  men  suffer  death  by  the  laws  of  England,  al- 
so flagitious  as  this."* 

111.  Adultery. 

"  A  new  sufferer  is  introduced,  the  injured  husband 
who  receives  a  wound  in  his  sensibility  and  affections 
the  most  painful  and  incurable  that  human  nature  knows 
In  all  other  respects,  adultery  on  the  part  of  the  mac 
who  solicits  the  chastity  of  a  married  woman,  includes 
the  crime  of  seduction,  and  is  attended  with  the  same 
mischief 

The  infidelity  of  the  woman  is  aggravated  by  cruelty 
to  her  children,  who  are  generally  involved  in  their  pa- 
rents' shame,  and  always  made  unhappy  by  their  quar- 
rel. 

If  it  be  said  that  these  consequences  are  chargeable 
not  so  much  upon  the  crime,  as  the  discovery,  we  answer, 
first,  that  the  crime  could  not  be  discovered  unless  it 
were  committed,  and  that  the  commission  is  never  secure 
from  discovery  ;  and  secondly,  that  if  we  excuse  adulter- 
ous connections,  whenever  they  can  hope  to  escape  de- 
tection, which  is  the  conclusion  to  which  this  argument 
conducts  us,  we  leave  the  husband  no  other  security  for 
his  wife's  chastity,than  in  her  want  of  opportunity  or  temp- 
tation ;  which  would  probably  either  deter  men,  from 
marrying,  or  render  marriage  a  state  of  such  jealousy 
and  alarm  to  the  husband,  as  must  end  in  the  slavery  and 
confinement  of  the  wife. 

All  behavior  which  is  designed,  or  which  knowingly 
tends,  to  captivate  the  affections  of  a  married  woman,  is 
a  barbarous  intrusion  upon  the  peace  and  virtue  of  a  fam- 
ily, though  it  fall  short  of  adultery. 

*  Ibid.  Chap.  3. 


ON  THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION.  217 

"  Thou  shaltnot  commit  adultery,"  was  an  interdict  de- 
livered by  God  himself.  By  the  Jewish  law,  adultery 
was  capital  to  both  parties  in  the  crime  :  ^'  Even  he 
that  committeth  adultery  with  his  neighbor's  wife,  the 
adulterer  and  adulteress  shall  surely  be  put  to  death."*  t 

IV.  Incest. 

"  In  order  to  preserve  chastity  in  families,  and  between 
persons  of  different  sexes,  brought  up  and  living  together 
in  a  state  of  unreserved  intimacy,  it  is  necessary  by  eve- 
ry method  possible  to  inculcate  an  abhorrence  of  inces- 
tuous connections  ;  which  abhorrence  can  only  be  upheld 
by  the  absolute  reprobation  of  all  commerce  of  the  sexes 
between  near  relations.  Upon  this  principle,  the  mar- 
riage, as  well  as  other  cohabitations,  of  brothers  and 
sisters,  of  lineal  kindred,  and  of  all  who  usually  live 
in  the  same  family,  may  be  said  to  be  forbidden  by  the 
law  of  nature."! 

V.  Polygamy. 

"  The  equality  in  the  number  of  males  and  females 
born  into  the  world,  intimates  the  intention  of  God,  that 
one  woman  should  be  assigned  to  one  man.  It  seems  al- 
so a  significant  indication  of  the  divine  will,  that  he  at 
first  created  only  one  woman  to  one  man. 

Polygamy  not  only  violates  the  constitution  of  nature, 
and  the  apparent  design  of  the  Deity,  but  produces  con- 
tests and  jealousies  among  the  wives  of  the  same  hus- 
band, and  distracted  affections,  or  the  loss  of  all  affection, 
in  the  husband  himself. 

Polygamy  is  retained  to  this  day  among  the  Turks, 
and  throughout  every  part  of  Asia  in  which  Christianity 

*  Lev.  XX.  10.        t  Paley's  Moial  Philos.  Book  IIL  Part  III.  Chap.  4. 
t  Ibid.  Chap.  S. 


S18  PRACTICAL   ETHICS. 

is  not  professed.  In  christian  countries,  it  is  universal- 
ly prohibited.     In  Sweden,  it  is  punished   with  death.''* 

VI.  Divorce. 

"  The  power  of  dissolving  the  Carriage  contract,  was 
allowed  to  the  husband,  among.^  the  Jews,  the  Greeks, 
and  latter  Romans  ;  and  is  at  this  day  exercised  by  the 
Turks  and  Persians.  The  congruity  of  such  a  right 
with  the  law  of  nature,  is  the  question  before  us.  And, 
in  the  first  place,  it  is  manifestly  inconsistent  with  the  du- 
ty, which  the  parents  owe  to  their  children  ;  which  duty 
can  never  be  so  well  fulfilled,  as  b}'  their  cohabitation 
and  united  care. 

A  lawgiver,  whose  counsels  are  directed  by  views  of 
general  utility,  would  make  the  marriage  contract  indis- 
soluble during  the  joint  lives  of  the  parties,  for  the 
sake  of  the  following  advantages  : 

1.  Because  this  tends  to  preserve  peace  and  con- 
cord between  married  persons,  by  perpetuating  their 
common  interest,  and  by  inducing  a  necessity  of  mutual 
compliance. 

2.  Because  new  objects  of  desire  would  be  continual- 
ly sought  after,  if  men  could,  at  will,  be  released  from 
their  subsisting  engagements. 

The  law  of  nature  admits  of  an  exception  in  favor 
of  the  injured  party,  in  cases  of  adultery,  of  obstinate 
desertion,  of  attempts  upon  life,  of  outrageous  cruelty, 
of  incurable  madness,  and,  perhaps,  of  personal  imbe- 
cility. 

The  scriptures  seem  to  have  drawn  the  obligation 
tighter  than  the  law  of  nature  left  it.  "  Whoever,"  saith 
Christ,  "  shall  put  away  his  wife,  except  it  be  for  forni- 
cation, and  shall  marry  another,  committeth  aduUerj  ; 
and  whoso  marrieth  her  that  is  put  away,  committeth  adul- 

»  Ibid.  Chap.  6. 


ON  THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION.  JIS 

tery."*  And  there  seems  to  be  no  sufficient  reason  to 
depart  from  the  plain  and  strict  meaning  of  Christ's 
words.  The  rule  was  new.  It  both  surprised  and  of- 
fended his  disciples ;  yet  Christ  added  nothing  to  relax 
or  explain  it. 

Inferior  causes  may  justify  the  separation  of  husband 
and  wife,  although  they  will  not  authorize  such  a  disso- 
lution of  the  marriage  contract,  as  would  leave  either 
party  at  liberty  to  marry  again  ;  for  it  is  that  liberty  in 
which  the  danger  and  mischief  of  divorces  principally 
consist.  If  the  care  of  children  does  not  require  that 
they  should  live  together,  and  it  is  become,  in  the  serious 
judgment  of  both,  necessary  for  their  mutual  happiness 
that  they  should  separate,  let  them  separate  by  consent. 
Nevertheless,  this  necessity  can  hardly  exist,  without 
guilt  and  misconduct  on  one  side  or  on  both.  Moreover, 
cruelty,  ill  usage,  extreme  violence  or  moroseness  of  tem- 
per, or  other  great  and  continued  provocations,  make  it 
lawful  for  the  party  aggrieved  to  withdraw  from  the  so- 
ciety of  the  offender  without  his  or  her  consent.**'! 

VII.  Marriage. 

"  The  parties,  by  the  marriage  vow,  engage  their 
personal  fidelity  expressly  and  specifically;  they  engage 
likewise  to  consult  and  promote  each  other's  happiness  ; 
the  wife,  moreover,  promises  obedience  to  her  husband. 
Nature  may  have  made  and  left  the  sexes  of  the  human 
species  nearly  equal  in  their  faculties,  and  perfectly  so  in 
their  rights  ;  but  to  guard  against  those  competitions 
which  equality,  or  a  contested  superiority,  is  almost  sure 
to  produce,  the  christian  scriptures  enjoin  upon  the  wife 
that  obedience  which  she  here  promises. 

Whoever  is  conscious,  at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  of 
such  a  dislike  to  the  woman  he  is  about  to  marry,  or  of 
such  a  subsisting  attachment  to  some  other  woman,  that 

♦Matt.  xix.  9.        t  Paley's  Moral  Philos.  Book  IIL  Part  III.  Chap.  7. 


220  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

he  cannot  reasonably,  nor  does  in  fact,  expect  ever  to  en- 
tertain an  affection  for  his  future  wife,  is  guilty,  when 
he  pronounces  the  marriage  vow,  of  a  direct  and  delib- 
erate prevarication ;  and  that,  too,  aggravated  by  the 
presence  of  those  ideas  of  religion,  and  of  the  Supreme 
Being,  which  the  ritual,  and  the  solemnity  of  the  occa- 
sion, cannot  fail  of  bringing  to  his  thoughts.  The  same 
likewise  of  the  woman. 

The  marriage  vow  is  violated, 

1.  By  adultery. 

2.  By  any  behavior  which,  knowingly,  renders  the 
life  of  the  other  miserable  ;  as  desertion,  neglect,  prodi- 
gality, drunkenness,  peevishness,  penuriousness,  jealousy, 
or  any  levity  of  conduct  which  administers  occasion  of 
jealousy."* 

The  following  remarks  of  Dr.  Brown  "  On  the  Duties 
of  the  Conjugal  Relation,"  are  worthy  to  be  read,  not  on- 
ly before  fixing  the  choice  of  a  companion  for  life,  but 
also  "  after  twenty  years  of  wedlock  :"t 

"  The  duties  of  the  conjugal  relation,  like  the  duties  of 
all  our  other  reciprocal  affinities,  however  minutely  di- 
vided and  subdivided,  are  involved  in  the  simple  obliga- 
tion to  make  those  who  are  the  objects  of  it,  as  happy  as 
it  is  in  our  power  to  make  them. 

In  these  few  simple  words,  however,  what  a  complica- 
tion of  duties  is  involved, — of  duties,  which  il  is  less  ea- 
sy for  the  ethical  inquirer  to  state  and  define,  than  for 
the  heart  which  feels  affection,  to  exercise  them  all  with 
instant  readiness.  He  who  loves  sincerely  the  object 
of  any  one  of  those  relations  which  bind  us  together 
in  amity,  and  who  is  wise  enough  to  discern  the  dif- 
ference of  conferring  a  momentary  gratification,  which 


*Ibid.  Chap.  8.        f  Brown's  Philosophy,  Lect.  88. 


ON  THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION.  221 

may  produce  more  misery  than  happiness,  and  of  con- 
ferring that  which  is  not  merely  present  happiness,  but  a 
source  of  future  enjoyment, — needs  no  rule  of  duty,  as 
far  at  least  as  relates  to  that  single  individual,  for  the  di- 
rection of  a  conduct,  of  which  love  itself,  unaided  by  any 
other  guidance,  will  be  a  quick  and  vigilant  director. 

The  husband  should  have,  then,  as  his  great  object  and 
rule  of  conduct,  the  happiness  of  the  wife.     Of  that  hap- 
piness, the  confidence  in  his  affection  is  the  chief  ele- 
ment ;  and  the  proofs  of  this  affection  on  his  part,  there- 
fore, constitute  his  chief  duty, — an  affection  that  is  not 
lavish  of  caresses  only,  as  if  these  were  the  only  demon- 
strations of  love,  but  of  that  respect  which  distinguishes 
love  as  a  principle^  from  that  brief  passion  which  assumes, 
and  only  assumes,  the   name, — a  respect  which  consults 
the  judgment  as  well  as  the  wishes,  of  the  object  belov- 
ed,— which  considers  /ler,  who  is  worthy  of  being  taken 
to  the  heart,  as  worthy  of  being  admitted  to  all  the  coun- 
sels of  the  heart.     If  there  are  any  delights,  of  which  he 
feels  the  value  as  essential  to  his  own  happiness, — if  his 
soul  be  sensible   to  the  charms  of  literary  excellence, — 
and  if  he  considers  the  improvement  of  his  own  under- 
standing, and   the  cultivation  of  his  own  taste,  as  a  duty, 
and  one  of  the  most  delightful  duties   of  an  intellectual 
being, — he  will  not  consider  it  as  a  duty  or  a  delight  that 
belongs  only  to  man,  but  will  feel  it   more  delightful,  as 
there  is  now  another  soul  that  may  share  with  him  all 
the  pleasure  of  the  progress.     To   love  the  happiness  of 
her  whose  happiness  is  in  his  affection,  is  of  course  to  be 
conjugally   faithful ;    but  it  is  more   than   to   be   merely 
faithful ;    it  is,  not  to  allow  room   even  for  a  doubt  as  to 
that  fidelity,  at  least  for  such  a  doubt  as  a  reasonable  mind 
might  form.     It  is  truly  to   love  her  best, — but  it  is  also 
to  seem  to  feel  that  love  which  is  truly  felt, 
T  2 


222  PRACTICAL    ETiflCS* 

As  the  happiness  of  the  wife  is  the  rule  of  conjugal 
duty  to  the  husband,  the  happiness  of  the  husband  is  in 
like  manner  the  rule  of  conjugal  duty  to  the  wife.  There 
is  no  human  being  whose  affection  is  to  be  to  her  like  his 
affection,  as  there  is  no  happiness  which  is  to  be  to  her 
like  the  happiness  which  he  enjoys.  All  that  I  have  said 
of  the  moral  obligation  of  the  husband,  then,  is  not  less 
applicable  to  her  duty ;  but,  though  the  gentle  duties 
belong  to  both,  it  is  to  her  province  that  they  more  es- 
pecially belong ;  because  she  is  at  once  best  fitted  by 
nature  for  the  ministry  of  tender  courtesies,  and  best  ex- 
ercised in  the  offices  that  inspire  them.  While  man  is 
occupied  in  other  cares  during  the  business  of  the  day, 
the  business  of  her  day  is  but  the  continued  discharge  of 
many  little  duties^  that  have  a  direct  relation  to  wedlock, 
in  the  common  household  which  it  has  formed.  He  must 
often  forget  her,  or  be  useless  to  the  world :  she  is  most 
useful  to  the  world,  by  remembering  him.  From  the 
tumultuous  scenes  which  agitate  man^  of  his  hours,  he 
returns  to  the  calm  scene,  where  peace  awaits  him,  and 
happiness  is  sure  to  await  him — because  she  is  there 
waiting,  whose  smile  is  peace,  and  whose  very  presence 
is  more  than  happiness  to  his  heart. 

Here  Love  his  golden  shafts  employs, — here  lights 
His  constant  lamp,  and  waves  his  purple  wings — 
Here  reigns  and  revels. 

The  vows,  which  constitute  a  solemn  part  of  the  mat- 
rimonial engagement,  give  to  this  duty  of  reciprocal  love 
the  sanction  of  an  additional  authority  ;  but  they  only  give 
an  additional  sanction,  and  increase  the  guilt  of  violating 
duties,  which,  without  these  vows,  it  would  still  have 
been  guilt  to  violate. 

The  husband  is  to  seek  the  happiness  of  his  wife,  the 
wife,  to  seek  the  happiness  of  her^  husband.  This  rule 
is  sufficiently  simple  and  efficacious,  where  affijction  is 


^N   THE  CONJUGAL    RELATIOV.  223 

Bufficiently  strong,  as  in  the  domestic  scenes  of  harmony 
and  delight  which  1  have  pictured.  But  there  may  be 
cases  of  occasional  disagreement,  and  then  what  is  the 
duty  ?  In  such  cases,  it  is  obviously  necessary^  that  for 
mutual  peace,  the  will  of  one  should  be  submitted  to  the 
will  of  the  other  ; — and,  if  a  point,  so  important  as  this, 
were  left  to  the  decision  of  the  individuals  themselves 
without  any  feeling  of  greater  duty  on  either  side, — the 
disagreement,  it  is  evident,  would  still  be  continued,  un- 
der a  different  name  ;  and,  instead  of  combating  who 
should  concede,  the  controversy  would  be,  of  whom  it 
was  the  duty  to  make  the  concession.  It  is  of  most  im- 
portant advantage,  therefore,  upon  the  whole^  that  there 
should  be  a  feeling  of  duty  to  be  called  in  foi  decision, 
in  such  unfortunate  cases ;  and  since,  from  various  cir- 
cumstances, natural  and  factitious,  man  is  everywhere  in 
possession  of  physical  and  political  superiority, — since  his 
education  is  usually  less  imperfect,  and  since  the  charge 
of  providing  for  the  support  of  the  family,  in  almost  ev- 
ery instance,  belongs  to  him — it  is  surely,  from  all  these 
circumstances,  fit,  upon  the  w^hole,  that,  if  the  power  of 
decision,  in  doubtful  matters,  should  be  given  to  one  rather 
than  to  the  other^it  should  be  with  man  that  it  is  to  rest — 
whatever  number  of  exceptions  there  may  be,  in  which, 
but  lor  the  importance  of  the  general  rule,  it  would  have 
been  of  advantage,  that  woman,  in  those  cases,  the  wiser 
and  more  virtuous,  were  the  decider. 

The  power  of  decision,  therefore,  which,  for  the  sake 
of  peace,  must  be  understood  as  resting  somewhere,  should 
rest  with  man  ;  but  though  it  rest  with  him,  it  is  onlj 
in  unfortunate  cases,  as  I  before  said,  that  the  power  of 
authoritative  decision  should  be  exercised.  In  the  gene- 
ral circumstances  of  conjugal  life,  there  should  be  absolute 
equality,  because,  where  love  should  be  equal,  there  should 
be   that  equal  desire  of  conferring  happiness,  which  is 


2^4  PRACTICAL   ETHICS, 

implied  in  equality  of  love  ;  and  he,  who,  irom  the  mer^ 
wish  of  gratifying  his  feeling  of  superiority,  can  wilfully 
thwart  a  wish  of  her,  whose  wishes,^ — where  they  do 
not  lead  to  any  moral  or  prudential  impropriety, — should 
be  to  him  like  his  own,  or  even  dearer  than  his  own,  if 
they  do  not  truly  become  his  wishes,  when  known  to  be 
hers, — would  deserve  no  slight  punishment,  as  the  viola- 
tor of  conjugal  obligation,  if  he  were  not  almost  suffi- 
ciently punished  in  the  very  want  of  that  better  affec- 
tion, the  delightful  feeling  of  which  would  have  saved 
him  from  his  tyranny  of  power. 

"  The  husband,  it  has  been  said,  should  decide,  in  af- 
fairs of  im])ortance, — the  wife  in  smaller  matters.  But 
the  husband  should  decide,  in  consulting  his  wife, — the 
wife  in  seeking  what  is  to  please  her  husband.  Let  them 
learn,  often,  the  pleasure  of  mutual  concessions.  Let 
them  say  often,  1  wish  this  because  it  is  right ;  but  let 
them  say  sometimes,  too,  1  wish  this  much,  because  I 
love  you.""* 

The  great  evil  in  matrimonial  life,  is  the  cessation  of 
those  cares,  which  were  regarded  as  necessary  for  ob- 
taining love,  but  which  are  unfortunately  conceived  to 
be  less  necessary,  when  love  is  once  obtained.  The  care- 
lessnesses of  a  husband,  are  not  less  severely  felt,  how- 
ever, because  they  are  the  neglects  of  one  whose  atten- 
tions are  more  valuable,  as  he  who  offers  them  is  more 
valued  ;  and  frequent  inattentions,  by  producing  frequent 
displeasure,  may  at  last,  though  they  do  not  destroy  love 
wholly,  destroy  the  best  happiness  of  love.  No  advice 
can  be  more  salutary  for  happiness,  than  that  which  re- 
commends an  equal  attention  to  please,  and  anxiety  not 
to  offend,  after  twenty  years  of  wedlock,  as  when  it  was 
the  object  of  the  lover  to  awake  the  passion,  on  which 
he  conceived  every  enjoyment  of  his  life  to  depend.    We 


♦St.  Lambert,  Oeuv.  Pbil.  Tome  III.  p.  38. 


ON  THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION.         226 

gain  at  least  as  much,  in  preserving  a  heart,^as  in  con- 
quering one. 

The  cessation  of  these  cares  would  be,  of  itself,  no 
slight  evil,  even  though  love  had  originally  been  less 
profuse  of  then),  than  it  usually  is,  in  the  extravagance  of 
an  unreflecting  passion.  She  who  has  been  worshipped 
as  a  goddess,  must  feel  doubly  the  insult  of  the  neglect 
which  afterwards  disdains  to  bestow  on  her  the  common 
honor  that  is  paid  to  woman ;  and  with  the  ordinary  pas- 
sions of  a  human  being,  it  will  be  diflicult  for  her  to  re- 
tain,— I  will  not  say  love,  for  that  is  abandoned, — but  the 
decorous  and  dignified  semblance  of  love,  for  him  who 
has  cared  little  for  the  reality  of  it.  It  is  not  easy  to 
say  by  how  insensible  a  transition,  in  many  cases,  this 
conjugal  resentment,  or  forced  indifference,  passes  into 
conjugal  infidelity  ; — though  it  is  easy,  in  such  a  case,  to 
determine,  to  whom  the  greater  portion  of  the  guilt  is 
to  be  ascribed. 

But  it  will  perhaps  be  said,  love  is  not  dependent  on 
our  mere  will — and  how  can  we  continue  to  love  one, 
whom  no  effort  of  ours  can  prevent  us  from  discovering 
to  be  unworthy  of  our  continued  affection  ?  But  by 
whom  is  this  objection  usually  made  ? — Not  by  those, 
who,  in  engaging  to  love,  and  honor,  and  cherish  during 
life,  have  been  careful  in  considering  who  it  was,  to  whom 
they  entered  under  this  solemn  engagement.  It  is,  in 
almost  every  instance,  the  objection  of  those,  who,  when 
they  formed  the  engagement,  made  a  vow,  of  the  real 
import  of  which  they  were  regardless ;  and  who  after- 
wards dare  to  plead  one  crime  as  the  justification  of  an- 
other. There  are  duties  of  marriage,  which  begin 
before  the  marriage  itself,  in  the  provision  that  is 
made  for  matrimonial  virtue  and  happiness ;  and  he  who 
neglects  the  means  of  virtuous  love,  in  a  state  of  which 
virtuous  love  is  to  be  the  principal  charm,  is  far  more 


226  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

inconsiderate,  and  far  more  guilty,  than  the  heedless 
producer  of  misery,  who  forms  a  matrimonial  connection 
without  the  prospect  of  any  means  of  subsistence,  for 
one  who  is  to  exist  with  him  only  to  suffer  with  him  in 
indigence,  and  for  the  little  sufferers  who  are  afterwards 
to  make  indigence  still  more  painfully  felt.  He  who  has 
vowed  to  love  one,  to  whom  he  pledges  love  only  be- 
cause he  knows  that  she  is  worthy  of  such  a  pledge,  will 
not  afterwards  have  reason  to  complain  of  the  difficulty  of 
loving  the  unworthy. 

If,  however,  it  be  necessary  for  man  to  be  careful  to 
whom  he  engages  himself  by  a  vow  so  solemn,  it  is  sure- 
ly not  less  necessary  for  the  gentler  tenderness  of  wo- 
man. She,  too,  has  duties  to  fulfil,  that  depend  on  love, 
or  at  least  that  can  be  sweetened  only  by  lore ;  and  when 
she  engages  to  perform  them  where  love  is  not  felt,  she 
is  little  aware  of  the  precariousness  of  such  a  pledge, 
and  of  the  perils  to  which  she  is  exposing  herself.  It  is 
truly  painful,  then,  to  see,  in  the  intercourse  of  the 
world,  how  seldom  affection  is  considered  as  a  necessary 
matrimonial  preliminary, — at  least  in  one  of  the  parties, 
and  in  the  one  to  whom  it  is  the  more  necessary  ;  and  how 
much  quicker  the  judgment  of  fathers,  mothers,  friends, 
is  to  estimate  the  wealth  or  the  worldly  dignity,  than  the 
wisdom  or  the  virtue,  which  they  present  as  a  lit  offering 
to  her,  whom  wealth  and  worldly  dignity  may  render 
only  weaker  and  more  miserable,  but  whom  wisdom 
might  counsel,  and  virtue  cherish.  It  is  painful  to  see 
one,  who  has  in  other  respects,  perhaps,  many  moral 
excellencies,  consent,  as  an  accomplice  in  this  fraud,  to 
forego  the  moral  delicacy,  which  condemns  the  apparent 
sale  of  affection,  that  is  not  to  be  sold, — rejoice  in  the 
splendid  sacrifice  which  is  thus  made  of  her  peace, — 
consign  her  person  to  one  whom  she  despises,  with  the 
same  indifference  as  she  consigns  her  hand^ — a  prostitute 


ON    THE    CONJUGAL    RELATION.  227 

lor  gold,  not  less  truly  because  the  prostitution  is  to  be 
for  life,  and  not  less  criminally  a  prostitute,  because  le 
the  guilt  and  meanness  of  the  pecuniary  barter,  are  ad- 
ded the  guilt  of  a  mockery  of  tenderness,  that  wishes  to 
deceive  man,  and  the  still  greater  guilt  of  a  perjury, 
that,  in  vows  which  the  heart  belies,  would  wish  to  de- 
ceive God,  on  whom  it  calls  to  sanction  the  deceit. 

When  marriages  are  thus  formed,  it  is  not  tor  the  suf- 
ferer to  complain,  if  she  find  that  she  has  acquired  a  few 
more  trappings  of  wealth,  but  not  a  husband.  She  has 
her  house,  her  carriage,  and  the  living  machines  that  are 
paid  to  wait  around  her  and  obey  her ;  she  takes  rank  in 
public  spectacles,  and  presides,  in  her  own  mansion,  in 
spectacles  as  magnificent ;  she  has  obtained  all  she  wish- 
ed to  obtain  ; — and  the  affection  and  happiness,  which  she 
scorned,  she  must  leave  to  those  who  sought  them. 

"  There  is  a  place  on  the  earth,"  it  has  been  said, 
"  where  pure  joys  are  unknown — from  which  politeness  is 
banished,  and  has  given  place  to  selfishness,  contradiction, 
and  halt-veiled  insults.  Remorse  and  inquietude,  like 
furies  that  are  never  weary  of  assailing,  torment  the  in- 
habitants. This  place  is  the  house  of  a  wedded  pair, 
who  have  no  mutual  love  nor  even  esteem. — There  is  a 
place  on  the  earth,  to  which  vice  has  no  entrance, — 
where  the  gloomy  passions  have  no  empire, — where 
pleasure  and  innocence  live  constantly  together, — where 
cares  and  labors  are  delightful, — where  every  pain  ie 
forgotten  in  reciprocal  tenderness, — where  there  is  an 
equal  enjoyment  of  the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future. 
It  is  the  house,  too,  of  a  wedded  pair — but  of  a  pair  who;, 
in  wedlock,  are  lovers  still."* 


♦  St.  Lambert,  OeuY.  Phil.  Tome  IL  p.  6«. 


(  228  ) 

CHAPTER  XZX. 

On  the  Parental  and  Filial  Relations. 

1.  Duty  and  Rights  of  Parents, 

"  1.  Maintenance.  The  wants  of  children  make  it  ne- 
cessary that  some  person  maintain  them ;  and,  as  no 
one  has  a  right  to  burden  others  by  his  act,  it  follows, 
that  the  parents  are  bound  to  undertake  this  charge 
themselves.  Hence  we  learn  the  guilt  of  those  who 
run  away  from  their  families,  or,  (what  is  much  the  same,) 
in  consequence  of  idleness  or  drunkenness,  throw  them 
upon  a  parish ;  or  who  leave  them  destitute  at  their 
death,  when,  by  diligence  and  frugality,  they  might  have 
laid  up  a  provision  for  their  support. 

2.  Education,  Education  may  comprehend  every  pre- 
paration that  is  made  in  our  youth  for  the  sequel  of  our 
lives.  Some  such  preparation  is  necessary  for  children 
of  all  conditions,  because,  without  it,  they  must  be  mise- 
rable, and  probably  will  be  vicious,  when  they  grow  up. 
To  send  an  uneducated  child  into  the  world,  is  injurious 
to  the  rest  of  mankind  ;  it  is  little  better  than  to  turn  out 
a  mad  dog  or  a  wild  beast  into  the  streets,  in  the  infe- 
rior classes  of  the  community,  this  principle  condemns 
the  neglec*  of  parents,  who  do  not  inure  their  children 
betimes  to  labor  and  restraint. 

In  the  middle  orders  of  society,  those  parents  are  the 
most  reprehensible,  who  neither  qualify  their  children 
for  a  profession,  nor  enable  them  to  live  without  one."* 

The  following  remarks  of  a  writer  in  the  New  Edin- 
burgh Encyclopedia,  are  worthy  the  attention  of  every 
parent  : 


*Paley*s  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  III.  Part  III.  Chap.  ». 


PARBNTAL    AND    FILIAL    RELATIONS.  229 

"  !q  every  judicious  system  of  moral  education,  few 
thiogsare  more  deserving  of  attention  than  the  formation  of 
habits.  The  great  object  to  be  aimed  at  in  early  culture, 
is  the  complete  occupation  of  the  mind  by  some  employ- 
ment which  may  lay  the  foundation  of  useful  habits  in 
after  life  ;  or,  at  least,  may  prevent  the  formation  of 
such  as  are  wrong.  And  where  bad  habits  have  been  ac- 
quired, they  are  not  to  be  conquered  by  the  power  of 
argument  or  of  demonstration  ;  they  are  to  be  overcome 
only  through  the  influence  of  some  counteracting  prac- 
tice,  which  must  be  made  sufficiently  interesting  to  en- 
gage the  feelings,  and  abstract  the  attention  from  the 
hurtful  habits  which  have  engrossed  it.  To  effect  a  re- 
formation in  such  circumstances,  is  a  work  of  extreme 
difficulty  ;  but  it  ought  not  to  be  abandoned  in  despair. 
The  most  pernicious  habits  have  often  been  acquired 
from  the  want  of  congenial  employment ;  for  if  a  man  is 
either  idle  or  forced  to  do  what  he  dislikes,  he  has  every 
chance  to  seek  for  pleasure  from  forbidden  gratifications. 
We  should  think  it  advisable  to  give  every  young  person 
who  is  not  condemned  to  manual  labor,  as  many  securi- 
ties as  possible  againit  the  formation  of  evil  habits;  and 
ample  resources  are  furnished  in  cultivating  the  pleas- 
ures of  taste,  or  in  the  departments  of  the  arts,  or  of 
polite  literature,  or  of  scientific  research.  Anc}  we  be- 
lieve it  has  often  happened,  that,  from  injudicious  re- 
straints, or  from  the  mind's  being  forced  into  an  unnatu- 
ral channel,  the  worst  consequences  have  been  produced  ; 
and  the  young  have  been  led  to  seek  from  vice,  that  plea- 
sure which  might  have  been  found  more  pure  and  ample 
in  congenial  occupations"* 

^^3.     A  reasonable  prevision  for  the  happiness  of  a  child ^ 
in  respect  to  outward    condition.     This    requires    three 


*  See  the  article  '*  Moral  Philosophy/*  in  the  New  Edinbargh  Eocy 
6lopedia. 

V 


238  PRACTICAL    ETHICS* 


4 


things  :  a  situation  suited  to  his  habits  and  reasonable  ex- 
pectations ;  a  competent  provision  for  the  exigencies  of 
that  situation  ;  and  a  probable  security  for  his  virtue. 

In  the  disposal  of  his  property  after  his  death,  a  pa- 
rent is  justified  in  making  a  difference  between  his  child- 
ren according  as  they  stand  in  greater  or  less  need  of  the 
assistance  of  his  fortune,  in  consequence  of  the  differ- 
ence of  their  age  or  sex,  or  of  the  situations  in  which 
they  are  placed,  or  the  various  success  they  have  met 
with. 

On  account  of  the  few  lucrative  employments  which 
are  left  to  the  female  sex,  and  by  consequence  the  little 
opportunity  they  have  of  adding  to  their  income,  daugh- 
ters ought  to  be  the  particular  objects  of  a  parent's  care 
and  foresight  ;  and  as  an  option  of  marriage,  from  which 
they  can  reasonably  expect  happiness,  is  not  presented  to 
every  woman  who  deserves  it,  a  father  should  endeavor 
to  enable  his  daughters  to  lead  a  single  life  with  independ- 
ence and  decorum,  even  though  he  subtract  more  for  that 
purpose  from  the  portions  of  his  sons  than  is  agreeable 
to  modern  usage,  or  than  they  expect. 

If  the  rest  of  the  community  make  it  a  rule  to  prefer 
sons  to  daughters,  an  individual  of  that  community  ought 
to  guide  himself  by  the  same  rule,  upon  principles  of 
mere  equality, — when  it  does  not  interfere  with  the 
weightier  reason  explained  in  the  last  paragraph.  For, 
as  the  son  suffers  by  the  rule,  in  the  fortune  he  may  ex- 
pect in  marriage,  it  is  but  reasonable  that  he  should  re- 
ceive the  advantage  of  it  in  bis  own  inheritance.  In- 
deed, whatever  the  rule  be,  as  to  the  preference  of  one 
sex  to  the  other,  marriage  restores  the  equality. 

After  the  first  requisite,  namely,  a  provision  for  the 
exigencies  of  his  situation,  is  satisfies],  a  parent  may  di- 
minish a  child's  portion,  in  order  to  punish  any  flagrant 
crime,  or  to  punish  contumacy  and  want  of  filial  duty. 


PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    RELATIONS.  361 

Our  children  gain  not  so  much  as  we  imagine,  in  the 
chance  of  this  world's  happiness,  or  even  of  its  external 
prosperity,  by  setting  out  in  it  with  large  capitals.  Of 
those  who  have  died  rich,  a  great  part  began  with  little. 
And,  in  respect  of  enjoyment,  there  is  no  comparison  be- 
tween a  fortune,  which  a  man  acquires  by  well-applied  in- 
dustry, or  by  a  series  of  successes  in  his  business,  and  one 
found  in  his  possession,  or  received  from  another. 

A  principal  part  of  a  parent's  duty  is  still  behind,  vi«. 
the  using  of  proper  precautions  and  expedients,  in  order 
to  form  and  preserve  his  children's  virtue. 

For  this  purpose,  the  first  point  to  be  endeavored  af- 
ter is,  to  impress  upon  children  the  idea  of  accountabler 
ness^  that  is,  to  accustom  them  to  look  forward  to  the  con- 
sequences of  their  actions  in  another  world ;  which  can 
only  be  brought  about  by  the  parents'  visibly  acting  with 
a  view  to  these  consequences  themselves.  Parents,  to 
do  them  justice,  are  seldom  sparing  in  lessons  of  virtue 
and  religion ;  in  admonitions  which  cost  little,  and  which 
profit  less ;  while  their  example  exhibits  a  continual  con- 
tradiction of  what  they  teach.  A  good  parent's  first  care 
is  to  be  virtuous  himself ;  his  second,  to  make  his  virtues 
as  easy  and  engaging  to  those  about  him  as  their  nature 
will  admit.  Virtue  itself  offends,  whea  coupled  with  for- 
bidding manners.  Young  minds  are  particularly  liable  to 
these  unfortunate  impressions.  For  instance,  if  a  father's 
economy  degenerate  into  a  minute  and  teaming  parsimo- 
ny, it  is  odds  but  that  the  son,  who  has  sufi'ered  under  it, 
set  out  a  sworn  enemy  to  all  rules  of  order  and  frugality. 
If  a  father's  piety  be  morose,  rigorous,  and  tinged  with 
melancholy,  perpetually  breaking  in  upon  the  recreation 
of  his  family,  and  surfeiting  them  with  the  language  of 
religion  upon  all  occasions,  there  is  danger  lest  the  son 
©arry  from  borne  with  him  a  settled  prejudice  against  se- 


t35  PRACTICAL    ETHICIS, 

xiousness  and  religion,  and  turn  out,  when  he  mixes  with 
the  world,  a  character  of  levity  or  dissoluteness."* 

"  The  rights  of  parents  result  from  their  duties.  If  it 
be  the  duty  of  a  parent  to  educate  his  children,  to  form 
them  for  a  life  of  usefuhiess  and  virtue,  he  ha«s  a  right 
to  such  authority,  and  in  support  of  that  authority  to  ex- 
ercise such  discipline,  as  may  be  necessary  for  these  pur- 
poses. The  law  of  nature  acknowledges  no  other  foun- 
dation of  a  parent's  right  over  his  children."! 

II.  Duty  of  Children. 

"  The  duly  of  children  may  be  considered, 

1.  During  Childhood.  The  submission  of  children  dur- 
ing ihis  period  must  be  ready  and  implicit,  with  an  ex- 
ception, however,  of  any  manifest  crime  which  may  be 
commanded  them. 

2.  Jlfier  they  have  attained  to  manhood^  but  continue  in 
their  father'^s  family.  If  children,  when  they  are  grown 
up,  voluntarily  continue  members  of  their  father's  family, 
they  are  bound,  beside  the  general  duty  of  gratitude  to 
their  parents,  to  observe  such  regulations  of  the  family 
as  the  father  shall  appoint ;  contribute  their  labor  to  its 
support,  if  required ;  and  confine  themselves  to  such  ex- 
penses as  he  shall  allow. 

3.  After  they  have  attained  to  manhood.^  and  have  left 
their  father'^s  Jamily.  In  this  state  of  the  relation,  the 
duty  to  parents  is  simply  the  duty  of  gratitude  ;  not  dif- 
ferent  in  kind^  from  that  which  we  owe  to  any  other  be- 
nefactor ;  in  degree^  just  ?o  much  exceeding  other  obli- 
gations, as  a  parent  has  been  a  greater  benefactor  than 
any  other  friend."| 

It  is  an  important  question,   how  far  the  authority  of 


#Paley's  Moral  Philos.  Book  III.  Part  III.  Chap.  9. 
tlbid.  Chap.  10.  %  Ibid.  Ciiap.  11 


PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    RELATIONS.  233 

pareuts  over  children  extends  in  regard  to  forming  the 
marriage  connection. 

1.  In  the  first  phice,  parents  have  a  right,  as  long  as 
their  children  are  under  age,  to  forbid  their  forming  any 
particular  connection  which  they  disapprove,  or,  if  they 
think  proper,  to  forbid  their  marrying  at  all.  Whether 
they  have  a  right  to  prohibit  all  intercourse  between 
the  parties  during  this  period,  is  not  quite  so  clear ;  but 
must,  I  think,  be  conceded.  Children,  in  this  case,  are, 
generally  speaking,  bound  to  regard  their  parents  as 
more  competent  to  judge  of  the  expediency  and  proprie- 
ty of  a  particular  connection,  than  thenfiSelves.  It  is, 
therefore,  not  only  their  duty,  when  their  parents  require 
it,  to  abstain  from  all  intercourse,  personal  or  epistola- 
ry, but  also  to  control  their  affections,  so  far,  at 
least,  that  the  attachment  they  have  formed  shall 
not  unfit  them,  in  any  degree,  tor  the  discharge  of  the 
duties  which  they  owe  to  their  parents,  or  retard  them 
in  the  attainment  of  such  education  as  their  parents  may 
think  proper  to  give  them.  The  child  is  not  bound, 
however,  to  relinquish  all  idea  of  ever  marrying  the  ob- 
ject of  his  affection.  If,  upon  coming  of  age  and  renew- 
ing his  acquaintance,  he  finds  that  the  same  preference 
and  attachment  still  continue,  the  restrictions  which  his 
parents  have  imposed  are  no  longer  binding  ;  nor  will  they, 
if  they  have  just  views  of  the  extent  of  their  authority, 
any  longer  attempt  to  oppose  his  inclination,  otherwise 
than  by  persuasion  and  advice  Nor  ought  a  child,  who 
marries  against  his  parents'  wishes,  to  suffer  in  their  af- 
fection or  their  fortune,  any  farther  than,  by  such  a  mar- 
riage, he  gives  evidence  of  an  unworthy  charncter. 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  objected,  that  as  "  a  parent  has,  in 
no  case,  a  right  to  destroy  his  child''s  happiness,"  and  as' 
attachments  are  sometimes  formed  at  an   early  age,  so 

rong  and  unconquerable  that  the  parties  must  be  wretch. 
u2  e 


^B4r  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

ed  without  each  other,  to  forbid  their  marriage  for  a  pe- 
riod of  four  or  five  years,  and  especially  to  prohibit  all 
intercourse  between  them  during  that  period,  is  exceed- 
ing the  limits  of  the  parent's  authority ;  and  that,  there- 
fore, the  child,  in  such  a  case,  is  released  from  his  obli- 
gation to  obey.  On  a  case  of  this  kind,  several  remarks 
may  be  made. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  an  error  to  suppose  that  the  at- 
tachment of  the  sexes  is  ever  unconquerable,  if  proper 
means  are  taken  to  overcome  it.  The  chief  difficulty  in 
controlling  or  overcoming  an  attachment,  arises  from  a 
fixed  belief  in  the  parties  themselves,  that  they  cannot 
overcome  it.  This  false  and  dangerous  notion  is  deriv- 
ed chiefly  from  the  reading  of  novels ;  and  is  one  of  the 
mischievous  effects  produced  by  the  indulgence,  in  youth, 
of  an  indiscriminate  perusal  of  that  class  of  writings. 
Besides,  "  it  is  the  nature  of  love  and  hatred,  and  of  all 
violent  affections,  to  delude  the  mind  with  a  persuasion 
that  we  shall  always  continue  to  feel  them  as  we  feel 
them  at  present:  we  cannot  conceive  that  they  will  either 
change  or  cease.  But  experience  of  similar  or  greater 
changes  in  ourselves,  or  a  habit  of  giving  credit  to  what 
our,  parents,  or  tutors,  or  books  teach  us,  may  control  this 
persuasion."*  Those  romantic  ideas  of  "  irresistible 
love"  and  of  "  invincible  and  eternal  attachment,"  ought 
to  be  banished  from  every  rational  mind,  and  especially 
ought  never  to  be  suffered  to  take  possession  of  the 
minds  of  the  young.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  reminded  how 
many  have  been  made  wretched  lor  life,  and  how  many 
have  lost  their  reason,in  consequence  of  disappointment  in 
love.  It  is  probable  that  most  of  these  cases  have  taken 
place  in  consequence  of  the  pernicious  practice  of  novel- 
reading,  and  through  a  criminal  indulgence  of  passion  in 


PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    RELATIONS.  235 

the  individual.  But  however  this  may  be,  those  may 
be  presumed  to  have  been  all  cases,  in  which  the  disap- 
pointment was  total,  the  hope  of  a  connection  forever 
abandoned,  and  the  lover  driven  to  despair.  Now,  1 
have  only  requirf;d  the  parties  to  suspend  their  inter- 
course till  they  are  of  age  ;  and  if  a  girl  will  die  of  a 
broken  heart  because  she  cannot  marry  till  she  is  eigh- 
teen, it  cannot  be  a  very  great  loss  to  the  public. 

In  the  second  place  1  would  remark,  that  so  violent  an 
attachment  at  so  early  an  age,  is  one  of  the  most  weighty 
reasons  why  the  parties  should  not  be  suffered  immedi- 
ately to  marry.  It  is  an  indication  of  rashness  and  want 
of  judgment;  and  is  less  likely  to  be  lasting,  than  a  pas- 
sion that  is  more  moderate  and  more  easily  controlled. 

A  third  remark  is,  that  if  it  will  be  four  or  five  years 
before  the  parties  will  be  of  age,  they  are  too  young  to 
be  capable  of  making  a  judicious  choice,  have  not  yet 
had  time  to  obtain  a  proper  education,  and  cannot  yet  be 
qualified  to  discharge  the  duties  connected  with  the  mar- 
ried state,  if  we  suppose  a  year  or  two  added  to  their 
age,  the  period  will  be  so  much  the  shorter  that  they 
will  have  to  wait,  before  they  will  be  at  liberty  to  act 
for  themselves. 

2.  But  it  may  he  inquired,  whether,  in  so  important  an 
affair  as  that  of  marriage,  the  authority  of  parents  over 
their  children,  especially  over  their  daughters,  does  not 
extend  beyond  the  period  of  their  minority.  1  reply,  that 
important  as  the  affair  is,  it  is  far  more  so  to  the  parties 
themselves,  than  it  can  be  to  their  parents ;  and  if  they 
are  allowed  to  act  for  themselves  in  other  things,  they 
certainly  ought  to  be  in  this. — '  But  are  not  daughters 
under  the  authority  of  their  parents  as  long  as  they  con- 
tinue in  their  father's  family  ?'  They  are  bound  to  ob- 
serve all  the  regulations  of  the  family  ;  and  so  they  would 
be  "  if  they  were  admitted  into  any  other  family,  or  re- 


^ 


S3^  PRACTICAL   ETHICS. 

ceived  support  from  any  other  hand."  But  they  are  not 
bound  to  continue  in  the  family  any  longer  than  they 
please  ;  neither  can  parents,  without  impropriety  and  in- 
humanity, forbid  any  gentleman's  entering  their  house  to 
visit  a  daughter,  unless  his  moral  character  be  bad,  or 
they  have  reason  to  suspect  him  of  dishonorable  views. 
Parents  have  no  more  right  to  forbid  a  daughter  to  re- 
ceive company  at  their  house,  or  to  be  absent  at  any  hour 
she  may  choose,  than  they  have  to  do  the  same  in  the 
case  of  any  other  female  who  may  become  a  member  of 
the  family. 

"  Still  less  have  parents  a  right  to  urge  their  cliildren 
upon  marriages  to  which  thpy  are  averse  ;  nor  ought 
they,  in  any  shape,  to  resent  the  child's  disobedience  to 
such  commands.  This  is  a  diflerent  case  from  opposing 
a  match  of  inclination,  because  the  child's  misery  is  a 
much  more  probable  consequence  ;  it  being  easier  to  live 
without  a  person  that  we  love,  than  with  one  whom  we 
hale.  Add  to  this,  that  compulsion  in  marriage  necessa- 
rily leads  to  prevarication ;  as  the  reluctant  party  promi- 
ses an  affection,  which  neither  exists,  nor  is  expected  to 
take  place  ;  and  parental,  like  all  human  authority,  ceases 
at  the  point  where  obedience  becomes  criminal."* 

1  close  this  subject  with  one  remark.  The  gratitude 
which  children  owe  to  their  parents,  ought  to  lead  them 
to  consult  their  wishes  and  feelings,  both  while  they  re- 
main in  the  family  and  afterwards,  and  both  in  the  choice 
of  a  companion  and  in  other  things,  as  far  as  they  can 
consistently  with  duty  and  their  own  interest,  and  even 
to  make  some  sacrifices  of  comfort  and  of  interest,  rather 
than  render  a  parent  unhappy.  Children  ought,  also,  in 
most  cases,  to  pay  that  deference  to  their  parents'  judg- 
ment and  advice,  which  is  due  to  superior  age  and  expe- 

*  Ibid. 


THE   RIGHTS    OF   SELP-DEFENCE.  23T 

rience ; — especially  if  their  parents  have  shown  them- 
selves worthy  of  their  confidence  and  esteem,  by  the  ed- 
ucation  they  have  given  them,  the  example  they  have 
set  before  them,  and  the  provision  they  have  made  for 
their  happiness. 


CHAPTSR  Z3C. 

The  Rights  of  Self-Defence. 

"  There  is  one  case  in  which  all  extremes  are  justifia- 
ble ;  namely,  when  our  life  is  assaulted,  and  it  becomes 
necessary  for  our  preservation  to  kill  the  assailant.  This 
liberty  is  restrained  to  cases  in  which  no  other  probable 
means  of  preserving  our  life  remain,  as  flight,  calling  for 
assistance,  disarming  the  adversary,  &c. 

The  instance  which  approaches  the  nearest  to  the 
preservation  of  life,  and  which  seems  to  justify  the  same 
extremities,  is  the  defence  of  chastity. 

Homicide  is  also  justifiable, 

1.  To  prevent  the  commission  of  a  crime,  which,  when 
committed,  would  be  punishable  with  death.  Thus,  it  is 
lawful  to  shoot  a  highwayman,  or  one  attempting  to  break 
into  a  house  by  night;  but  not  so  if  the  attempt  be  made 
in  the  day  time. 

2,  In  necessary  endeavors  to  carry  the  law  into  execu- 
tion, as  in  suppressing  riots,  apprehending  malefactors 
preventing  escapes,  &c."* 

There  is  one  case  which  presents  some  difficulty,  and 
can  seldom  happen  ;  but  which  is  worthy  of  consideia- 
tion  on  account  of  the  principle  which  it  involves.     How 


*  Paley's  Mor.  Philos.  Book  IV.  Chap.  1. 


*238  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

is  the  right  of  self-defence,  or  rather  of  self-preserratioi, 
to  be  adjusted,  "  where  two  persons  are  reduced  to  a  situ- 
tion,  in  which  one  or  both  of  them  must  perish ;  as  in  a 
shipwreck,  where  two  seize  upon  a  plank  which  will  sup- 
port only  one  ?"  According  to  Dr.  Paley,  each  has  a  right 
to  save  his  own  life  and  take  that  of  the  other.  Of  course, 
since  "  right  and  obligation  are  reciprocals''''^  each  is  un- 
der obligation  to  yield  up  his  own  life  to  save  that  of  the 
other.  But  to  be  serious,  it  seems  that  the  doctrine  of 
"  public  utility"  might  have  led  to  a  different  conclusion. 
According  to  this  principle,  each  of  the  two  ought  to 
consider  which  life  is  likely  to  be  most  useful  to  the  pub- 
lic. Or  is  the  obligation  to  consult  the  public  good  bind- 
ing no  farther  than  while  that  good  coincides  with  one's 
private  interest  ?  If  a  man  is  not  under  obligation  to 
part  with  his  life  for  the  public  good,  neither  is  he  under 
obligation  to  expose  his  life  to  any  hazard,  or  to  make 
any  sacrifice  whatever,  for  the  public  good.  I  conclude, 
therefore,  that  in  such  cases  as  that  stated,  if  both  or 
either  of  the  parties  is  able  to  form  an  opinion  which 
life  is  likely  to  be  the  most  valuable  to  the  world,  it  is 
their  duty  to  save  that  life  and  sacrifice  the  other.  Where 
the  one  has  a  family  dependent  on  his  care  and  support, 
and  the  other  has  not,  this  might  be  sufficient  to  decide 
the  question. 

in  what  1  have  said  on  this  subject,  I  have  gone  on  the 
supposition  that  both  parties  arc  in  the  same  situation 
in  respect  to  being  prepared  for  a  future  state.  If  the 
one  is  pious  and  the  other  not,  the  case  becomes  more 
difficult.  I  think,  however,  that  in  this  case,  the  pious 
man  ought  to  resign  his  life  to  save  that  of  the  other ; 
informing  him  of  his  motives  for  so  doing,  and  exhorting 
him,  with  his  last  words,  to  devote  the  remainder  of  his 
life  to  the  service  of  God. 

*  See  p.  182. 


(  239  ) 

CHiLFTER  XXZ. 

Drunkenness. 

"  Drunkenness  is  either  actual  or  habitual  ;  just  as  it  i« 
•ne  thing  to  be  drunk,  and  another  to  be  a  drunkard. 
What  we  shall  deliver  upon  the  subject  must  principally 
be  understood  of  a  habit  of  intemperance. 

The  mischief  of  drunkenness,  from  which  we  are  t« 
eompute  the  guilt  of  it,  consists  in  the  following  bad 
eflfects : 

1.  It  betrays  most  constitutions  either  to  extravagaa- 
oes  of  anger,  or  sins  of  lewdness. 

2.  It  disqualifies  men  for  the  duties  of  their  station, 
both  by  the  temporary  disorder  of  their  faculties,  and  at 
length  by  a  constant  incapacity  and  stupefaction. 

3.  It  is  attended  with  expenses,  which  can  often  be  ill 
spared. 

4.  It  is  sure  to  occasion  distress  to  the  family  of  the 
drunkard. 

5.  It  shortens  life. 

To  these  consequences  of  drunkenness  must  be  added 
the  peculiar  danger  and  mischief  of  the  example.  Drunk- 
enness is  apt,  beyond  any  vice  that  can  be  mentioned,  to 
draw  in  others  by  the  example.  I  would  expostulate 
with  the  drunkard  thus :  Do  you  say  the  waste  of  time 
and  money  is  of  small  importance  to  you  ?  It  may  be 
of  the  utmost  to  some  one  or  other  whom  your  soci- 
ety corrupts.  Do  you  say  that  you  have  a  constitu- 
tion fortified  against  the  poison  of  strong  liquors  ?  Those 
excesses,  which  hurt  not  your  health,  may  be  fatal  to  your 
companion.  Do  you  say  that  you  have  neither  wife,  nor 
child,  nor  parent,  to  lament  your  absence  from  home,  or 
expect  your  return  to  it  with  terror  ?  Other  families,  in 
which  husbands  and  fathers  have  been  invited  to  share  is 


J40  PRACTICAL    ETHICS, 

your  ebriety,  or  encouraged  to  imitate  it,  may  justly  lay 
their  misery  or  ruin  at  your  door.  This  will  hold  good, 
whether  the  person  seduced  be  seduced  immediately  by 
you,  or  the  vice  be  propagated  from  you  to  him  through 
several  intermediate  examples.  All  these  considerations 
it  is  necessary  to  assemble,  to  judge  truly  of  a  vice, 
which  usually  meets  with  milder  names  and  more  indulr 
gence  than  it  deserves. 

Drunkenness  is  repeatedly  forbidden  by  St.  Paul  :  ''Be 
not  drunk  with  wine,  wherein  is  excess."  "  Let  us 
walk  honestly  as  in  the  day,  not  in  rioting  and  drunken- 
ness." "  Be  not  deceived :  neither  fornicators,  nor 
drunkards^  nor  revilers,  nor  extortioners,  shall  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God."*  The  same  Apostle  likewise  con- 
demns drunkenness,  as  peculiarly  inconsistent  with  the 
christian  profession  :  "  They  that  be  drunken,  are  drunk- 
en in  the  night ;  but  let  us,  who  are  of  the  day,  be  so- 
ber."! 

It  is  a  question  of  some  importance,  how  far  drunken- 
ness is  an  excuse  for  the  crimes  which  the  drunken  per- 
son commits. 

In  the  solution  of  this  question,  w^  will  first  suppose 
the  drunken  person  to  be  altogether  deprived  of  moral 
agency,  that  is  to  say,  of  all  reflection  and  foresight. 
The  guilt  with  which  he  is  chargeable,  was  incurred  at 
the  time  when  he  voluntarily  brought  himself  into  this 
situation.  And  as  every  man  is  responsible  for  the  con- 
sequences which  he  foresaw,  or  might  have  foreseen,  those 
vices  which  are  the  known  effects  of  drunkenness,  are 
nearly  ns  criminal  as  if  committed  with  all  his  faculties 
and  senses  about  him.  If  the  privation  of  reason  be  on- 
ly partial,  the  guilt  will  be  of  a  mixed  nature. 


»  Eph.  V.  18.     Rom.  xiii.  13.     1  Cor.  y'u  9,  10. 
1 1  Thess.  V.  1j  8. 


DRUNKENNESS,  241 

The  appetite  for  intoxicating  liquors  appears  to  me 
to  be  almost  always  acquired, — If  a  habit  of  drmikenness 
be  ever  overcome,  it  is  upon  some  change  of  place,  situ- 
ation, company,  or  profession.  A  man  sunk  deep  in  a 
habit  of  drunkenness,  will,  when  he  finds  himself  loosen- 
ed from  the  associations  which  held  him  fast,  sometimes 
make  a  plunge,  and  get  out.  In  a  matter  of  so  great  im- 
portance, it  is  well  worth  while,  where  it  is  in  any  de- 
gree practicable,  to  change  our  habitation  and  society, 
for  the  sake  of  the  experiment. 

Habits  of  drunkenness  commonly  take  their  rise  either 
from  a  fondness  for,  and  connection  with,  some  compan}^, 
or  some  companion,  already  addicted  to  this  practice;  or 
from  want  of  regular  employment ;  or  from  grief,  or  fa- 
tigue, both  which  strongly  solicit  that  relief  which  ine- 
briating liquors  administer,  and  also  furnish  a  specious 
excuse  for  complyhig  with  the  inclination.  But  the  ha- 
bit, when  once  set  in,  is  continued  by  different  motives 
from  those  to  which  it  owes  its  origin.  Persons  addict- 
ed to  excessive  drinking,  suffer,  in  the  intervals  of  sobri- 
ety, and  near  the  return  of  their  accustomed  indulgence, 
a  faintness  and  oppression,  which  it  exceeds  the  ordinary 
patience  of  human  nature  to  endure.  This  is  usually  re- 
lieved for  a  short  time  by  a  repetition  of  the  same  ex- 
cess ;  and  to  this  relief,  as  to  the  removal  of  every  long- 
continued  pain,  they  who  have  once  experienced  it,  are 
urged  almost  beyond  the  power  of  resistance.  This  is 
not  all :  as  the  liquor  loses  its  stimulus^  the  dose  must  be 
increased,  which  increase  proportionably  accelerates  the 
progress  of  all  the  maladies  that  drunkenness  brings  on. 
Whoever  reflects  upon  the  violence  of  the  craving  in  the 
advanced  stages  of  the  habit,  and  the  fatal  termination  to 
which  the  gratification  of  it  leads,  will,  the  moment  he 
perceives  in  himself  the  first  symptoms  of  a  growing  in- 
cliDatioQ  to  intemperance,"  firmly  and  solemnly  resolve 


242  PRACTICAL   ETHICS. 

never  more  to  touch  the  intoxicating  howl.  "  Indefinite 
resolutions  of  ahstemiousness  are  apt  to  yield  to  extraor- 
dinary occasions  ;  and  extraordinary  occasions  to  occur 
perpetually.  Whereas,  the  stricter  the  rule  is,  the  more 
tenacious  we  grow  of  it."  The  only  rational  hope  of  safe- 
ty is  in  total  abstinence.*'  And,  generally  speaking,  there 
is  no  hope  that  a  man  who  is  addicted  to  excessive  drink- 
ing, will  totally  abstain  from  the  use  of  ardent  spirits,  un- 
less he  not  only  firmly  and  solemnly  resolve  so  to  do,  hut 
also  resolve  to  avoid  every  thing  which  might  tempt  him 
to  break  that  resolution. 

There  is  a  difference,  no  doubt,  between  convivial 
intemperance,  and  that  solitary  sottishness  which  waits 
neither  for  company  nor  invitation.  But  the  one  most 
commonly  ends  in  the  other ;  and  this  last  is  the  basest 
degradation  to  which  the  faculties  and  dignity  of  human 
nature  can  be  reduced."! 

The  degree  in  which  intemperance  prevails  in  our 
country,  and  the  many  and  great  evils  which  it  draws  in 
its  train,  will  excuse  a  few  additional  remarks.  For  al- 
though much  has  been  written,  and  well  written,  on  the 
subject,  yet  a  fiiend  to  human  happiness  can  hardly  feel 
justified  in  neglecting  an  opportunity  for  saying  or  doing 
any  thing  which  may  be  likely  to  check,  in  any  measure, 
the  prevalence  of  so  baneful  a  practice.  Little  hope, 
indeed,  is  to  be  indulged  of  the  reformation  of  those  who 
have  already  formed  a  habit  of  intemperate  drinking. 
But  it  would  seem  as  if  we  might  hope,  that  the  virtuous 
part  of  the  community  would  be  willing  to  make  some 
efforts,  and,  if  necessary,  some  sacrifices,  to  save  them* 
selves  and  their  children  from  being  drawn  into  this  vor- 
tex.    The    present  generation   of  drunkards  will   soo» 


»See  p.  11©.  t  Paley's  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  IV.  Chap.  2. 


DRUNKENNESS.  243 

pass  oflf  the  stage ;  and  their  fate  is  comparatively  of  lit- 
tle importance,  if  all  the  vice  and  wretchedness  which 
are  produced  by  intemperance,  could  be  buried  with 
them  in  the  grave,  a  new  era  would  commence  in  our 
land.  And  how  can  this  event  be  secured  ?  By  bring- 
ing up  all  the  children  that  are  now  on  the  stage,  and  that 
shall  hereafter  be  born,  in  total  abstinence  from  the  use  of 
ardent  spirits.  If  they  never  drank  any  they  would  never 
need  any^ — except  for  a  medicinal  purpose,  in  case  of 
sickness.  Few,  I  think,  will  dispute  the  truth  of  this 
proposition.  The  experiment  has  been  sufficiently  tri- 
ed. Neither  health,  nor  happiness  is  promoted  by  even 
the  moderate  use  of  ardent  spirits.  How  much  money, 
then,  might  be  spared  for  better  purposes,  and  how  much 
vice  and  wretchedness  might  be  prevented  I  But  1  would 
go  farther.  Most  of  those  who  are  now  in  the  habit  of 
drinking  spirituous  liquor  in  such  quantities  as  it  has  been 
customary  for  temperate  men  to  use,  might  totally  ab- 
stain without  impairing  their  health,  strength,  or  happi- 
ness. How  can  he  be  called  a  friend  to  virtue  or  to  man- 
kind, who  is  not  willing  to  make  the  experiment  for  a  few 
months  ?  And  let  those  who  find  they  receive  injury 
from  total  abstinence,  reduce  the  quantity  which  they  ha- 
bitually drink,  as  much  as  they  can  without  injury.  Both 
these  have  been  done,  in  many  instances,  and  the  result 
has  been  happy.  The  vicious  and  the  profane  hare 
sometimes  derided;  but  even  they  can  seldom  avoid  be- 
ing influenced,  more  or  less,  by  the  example  of  those 
whose  virtue  and  merits  command  their  respect. 

The  course  1  have  recommended,  will  require  no  sa- 
crifice on  the  part  of  young  children,  and  not  much  in 
those  who  are  several  years  of  age.  As  to  adults,  admit 
that  it  is  a  sacrifice,  and  that  sell-denial  will  be,  for 
a  while,  required  ;  what  is  this  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
object  ?  That  man  is  unworthy  of  the  name,  who  is  euch 


244  PRACTICAL    ETHIOS. 

an  enemy  to  his  species,  and  so  grossly  selfish,  that  he 
will  not  deny  himself  a  small  sensual  indulgence,  for  the 
sake  of  promoting  the  public  good. 

But  there  are  many  who  are  thus  grossly  selfish,  and 
who  will  not  submit  to  self-denial  for  the  sake  of  the  pub- 
lic good.  Such  must  be  made  to  feel  that  it  is  for  their 
own  interest,  to  shun  the  paths  of  intemperance.  1  do 
not  mean  their  eternal  interest,  for  that  they  disregard. 
They  must  be  made  to  feel  that  the  temporal  and  the  pre- 
sent evils  of  intemperance,  are  too  dear  a  price  to  pay 
for  the  pleasures  of  drinking.  Nor  is  the  prospect  of 
ruining  their  health,  shortening  their  life,  and  bringing 
poverty  and  distress  upon  their  families,  sufficient.  Ma- 
ny form  a  habit  of  drinking,  though  aware  of  the  dan- 
ger;  and  persist  in  this  habit,  though  with  the  fullest 
conviction  that  such  must  be  the  dreadful  result.  The 
intemperate  man,  even  in  the  early  stages  of  the  habit, 
must  be  made  to  suffer  present  evils,  and  those  of  no 
small  magnitude.  The  method  I  would  recommend,  is 
this.  Let  every  person  who  drinks  intemperately, 
whether  he  has  become  a  confirmed  drunkard  or  not,  be 
excluded  from  the  society  of  all  sober  people.  Let  no 
one  offer  him  any  employment,  or  have  any  dealings 
with  him.  Let  him  never  be  beheld,  except  with  the 
aspect  of  pity,  or  the  frown  of  disapprobation.  Ant  let 
him  never  be  spoken  to,  except  in  a  way  that  shall  make 
him  the  more  deeplj^  feel,  that  he  has  lost  the  favor  of 
God  and  of  man. 

It  would  be  well,  if  a  tax  were  laid  on  ardent  spirits, 
so  heavy,  as  to  nii^ke  the  price  of  them  tenfold  what  it 
now  is.  Many  drunkards  would  thus  be  unable  to  obtain 
them  ;  and  others  would  reduce  themselves  to  poverty 
before  they  were  past  the  hope  of  reformation.  Many 
would  also  be  prevented  from  ever  forming  a  habit 
of  intemperance. — But  perhaps  it  is  too  much  to  hope 


SUICIDE.  245 

that  our  legislators  will  at  present  impose  such  a  tax. 
Indeed,  if  the  laws  already  in  existence  in  New-England 
for  the  suppression  of  intemperance,  were  rigorously 
enforced,  much  evil  would  be  prevented.  A  neglect  to 
enforce  these  laws,  is  scarcely  less  criminal  than  drunk- 
enness itself.  And  retailers  of  ardent  spirits,  who  sell 
to  those  whom  they  know  to  be  intemperate,  appear  to 
be  as  selfish,  and  as  worthy  to  be  reprobated,  as  the 
drunkards  whose  vices  they  encourage. — But  it  is  on 
the  more  virtuous  part  of  the  community,  that  we  must 
chiefly  depend  for  the  cure  of  this  evil.  Though  they 
may  not  be  able  to  procure  the  enactment  of  more  ef- 
fectual laws,  or  even  the  enforcement  of  the  laws  al- 
ready in  being,  yet  they  may  do  much  toward  making 
every  intemperate  man  an  outcast  from  all  respectable 
society.  This  would  be  the  means  of  reforming  many, 
and  would  inspire  the  rising  generation  with  a  proper  ab- 
horrence and  dread  of  intemperance. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Suicide. 

The  unlawfulness  of  suicide  appears  from  the  following 
considerations : 

1.  Suicide  is  unlawful  on  account  of  its  general  conse^ 
quences.  It  is  evident,  that,  it  it  were  to  become  a  com- 
mon thing,  the  injury  to  the  public  must  be  very  great. 
^  Many  lives  would  be  lost,  of  which  some  might  be  use- 
ful and  important ;  many  families  would  be  brought  into 
the  deepest  affliction,  and  all  into  a  state  of  consterna- 
tion. Mankind  would  live  in  continual  alarm  for  the  fate 
of  their  friends  and  dearest  relations.' 
x2 


246  PRACTICAL    ETHIdS* 

2.  Suicide  is  unlawful,  because  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
self-murderer  to  live  in  the  world,  and  be  useful  in  it. 
We  may  venture  to  say,  that  there  is  no  case  where  a 
person  ought  to  despair  ol  ever  again  being  able  to  do  any 
good  on  earth. 

3.  Suicide  is  unlawful,  because,  beside  the  general 
bad  consequences,  there  are  particular  bad  consequen- 
ces, more  or  less  numerous,  attending  on  every  case  of 
the  commission  of  this  crime. 

4.  Suicide  is  unlawful,  because  he  who  commits  it, 
deprives  himself  of  all  farther  opportunity  to  prepare 
for  happiness  in  a  future  state.  The  self-murderer  takes 
away  his  life  to  escape  from  the  evils  he  endures  in  this 
world  ;  and  plunges  into  an  abyss  of  inconceivable  sor- 
row and  despair. 

Finally,  suicide  is  unlawful,  because  it  is  inconsistent 
with  the  spirit  and  temper  of  the  gospel.  This  will  be 
made  evident  from  the  following  observations. 

"  1.  Human  life  is  spoken  of  in  the  New  Testament 
as  a  term  assigned  or  prescribed  to  us-.  "  Let  us  run  with 
patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us." — '^  1  have  finish- 
ed my  course." — "  That  I  may  finish  my  course  with  joy." 
— "  Ye  have  need  of  patience,  that,  after  ye  have  done 
the  will  of  God,  ye  might  receive  the  promise."  These 
expressions  appear  inconsistent  with  the  opinion,  that  we 
are  at  liberty  to  determine  the  duration  of  our  lives  for 
ourselves. 

2,  There  is  not  one  quality  which  Christ  and  his  apos- 
tles inculcate  upon  their  followers  so  often,  or  so  earnest- 
ly, as  that  of  patience  under  affliction.  Now  this  virtue 
would  have  been  in  a  great  measure  superseded,  and  the 
exhortations  to  it  might  have  been  spared,  if  the  disci- 
ples of  his  religion  had  been  at  liberty  to  quit  the  world 
as  soon  as  they  grew  weary  of  the  ill  usage  which  they 
received  in  it. 


•N  PRAYER    AND   PUBLIC    WORSHIP.  247 

3.  The  conduct  of  the  apostles,  and  of  the  Christians 
of  the  apostolic  age,  affords  no  obscure  indication  of 
their  sentiments  upon  this  point.  They  lived,  we  are 
sure,  in  a  confirmed  persuasion  of  the  existence,  as  well 
as  of  the  happiness  of  a  future  state.  They  experien- 
ced in  this  world  every  extremity  of  external  injury  and 
distress.  To  die,  was  gain.  The  change  which  death 
brought  with  it  was,  in  their  expectation,  infinitely  be- 
neficial. Yet  it  never,  that  we  can  find,  entered  into  the 
intention  of  one  of  them  to  hasten  this  change  by  an  act 
of  suicide ;  from  which  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  motive 
could  have  so  universally  withheld  them,  except  the  ap- 
prehension of  some  unlawfulness  in  the  expedient."* 


CHAFTER  XXZZZ. 

On  Prayer  and  Public  Worship. 

"  Our  duty  towards  God,  so  far  as  it  is  external,  is  di- 
vided into  worship  and  reverence.  God  is  the  immediate 
object  of  both ;  and  the  difference  between  them  is,  that 
the  one  consists  in  action,  and  the  other  in  forbearance. 
When  we  go  to  church  on  the  Lord's  day,  led  thither  by 
a  sense  of  duty  towards  God,  we  perform  an  act  of  wor- 
ship ;  when,  from  the  same  motive,  we  rest  in  a  journey 
upon  that  day,  we  discharge  a  duty  of  reverence."t 

I.  Prayer. 

"  Prayer  is  necessary  to  keep  up,  in  the  minds  of  man- 
kind, a  sense  of  God's  agency  in  the  universe,  and  of 
their  own  dependency  upon  him.  The  duty  of  prayer, 
however,  depends  upon  its   efficacy.      The   efficacy  of 


*Paley's  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  IV.  Chap.  ^. 
Ibid.  Book  V.  Chap.  1. 


248  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

prayer  imports  that  we  obtain  something  in  consequence 
of  praying,  which  we  should  not  have  received  without 
prayer;  against  all  expectation  of  which,  the  following 
objection  has  been  often  and  seriously  alleged :  ^  If  what 
we  request  be  fit  for  us,  we  shall  have  it  without  praying ; 
if  it  be  not  fit  for  us,  we  cannot  obtain  it  by  praying.' 
This  objection  admits  but  of  one  answer,  namely,  that  it 
may  be  agreeable  to  perfect  wisdom  to  grant  that  to  our 
prayers,  which  it  would  not  Lave  been  agreeable  to  the 
same  wisdom  to  have  given  us  without  praying  for. 

1.  A  favor  granted  to  prayer  may  be  more  apt,  on  that 
very  account,  to  produce  good  effects  upon  the  person 
obliged. 

2.  It  may  be  consistent  with  the  wisdom  of  the  Deity, 
to  withhold  his  favors  till  they  be  asked  for,  as  an  expe- 
dient to  encourage  devotion  in  his  rational  creation,  in 
order  thereby  to  keep  op  and  circulate  a  knowledge  and 
sense  of  their  dependency  upon  him, 

3.  Prayer  has  a  natural  tendency  to  amend  the  peti- 
tioner himself. 

But  efficacy,  we  are  told,  is  ascribed  to  prayer  with- 
out that  proof  which  can  alone  in  such  a  subject  produce 
conviction,  the  confirmation  of  experience.  It  is  possi- 
ble, in  the  nature  of  things,  that  our  prayers  may,  in  many 
instances,  be  efficacious,  and  yet  our  experience  of  their 
efficacy  be  dubious  and  obscure."  Though  the  particular 
favors  that  are  asked  be  not  granted,  yet  other  favors 
may  be  bestowed  in  consequence  of  our  prayers ;  and 
such,  perhaps,  as  will  be  more  beneficial  to  us. — But  it  is 
said,  that  "  to  pray  for  particular  favors  by  name,  is  to 
dictate  to  divine  wisdom  and  goodness."  Not  if  we  pray 
with  that  submissive  temper,  with  which  every  petition 
ought  to  be  offered.*     It  is  farther  objected,  that  "  to  in- 


*See  Luke  xxii.  42. 


ON  PRAYER  AND  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.  249 

tercede  for  others,  especially  for  whole  nations  and  em- 
pires, is  still  worse  ;  that  it  is  to  presunne  that  we  possess 
such  an  interest  with  the  Deity,  as  to  be  able,  by  our  ap- 
plications, to  bend  the  most  importaut  of  his  counsels."" 
But  to  bestow  blessings  on  some  in  answer  to  the  prayers 
of  others, '^  is  nothing  more  than  the  making  of  one  man 
the  instrument  of  happiness  and  misery  to  another ;  which 
is  perfectly  of  a  piece  with  the  course  and  order  that  ob- 
tain, and  which  we  must  believe  were  intended  to  obtain, 
in  human  affairs.  The  happiness  and  misery  of  great 
numbers  we  see  oftentimes  at  the  disposal  of  one  man's 
choice,  or  liable  to  be  much  affected  by  his  conduct : 
what  greater  diflSculty  is  there  in  supposing,  that  the 
prayers  of  an  individual  may  avert  a  calamity  from  mul- 
titudes, or  be  accepted  to  the  benefit  of  whole  communi- 
ties ?"*  "  The  scriptures  require  prayer  ta  God  as  a 
duty  ;  and  they  contain  positive  assurance  of  its  efficacy 
and  acceptance.     See  the  following  passages  : 

1.  Texts  enjoining  prayer  in  general.  Matt.  vii.  7, 
11  ;  Luke  xxi.  36  ;  Rom.  xii.  12;  Phil.  iv.  6  ;  1  Thess. 
T.  17;,  1  Tim.  ii.  8. 

2.  Examples  of  prayer  for  particular  favors  by  name. 
2  Cor.  xii.  8;  1  Thess.  iii.  10. 

3.  Directions  to  pray  for  national  or  public  blessings. 
Ps.  cxxii.  6  ;  Zech.  x.  1 ;  1  Tim.  ii.  1-3. 

4.  Examples  of  intercession,  and  exhortations  to  in- 
tercede for  others.  Ex.  xxxii.  1 1  ;  Acts  xii.  5 ;  Rom.  i. 
9;  XV.  30  ;  James  v.  16. 

6.  Declarations  and  examples  authorizing  the  repeti- 
tion of  unsuccessful  prayer.  Luke  xviii.  1  ;  Matt.  xxvi% 
44  ;  2  Cor.  xii.  8."t 

II.  Private  Prayer. 

"  Concerning  private,  family,  and  public  devotion,  it  is 
first  of  all  to  be  observed,  that  each  has  its  separate  and 


» Paley's  Mor.  Philos.  Book  V.  Chap.  2.  f  Ibid.  Chap.  3. 


25d  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

peculiar  use  ;  and  therefore,  that  the  exercise  of  one  spe- 
cies of  worship,  however  regular  it  be,  does  not  super- 
sede, or  dispense  with,  the  obligation  of  either  of  the 
other  two. 

Private  Prayer  is  recommended  for  the  sake  of  the 
following  advantages  : 

Private  wants  cannot  always  be  made  the  subject  of 
public  prayer. 

Private  prayer  is  generally  more  devout  and  earnest 
than  the  share  we  are  capable  of  taking  in  joint  acts  of 
worship  ;  because  it  affords  leisure  and  opportunity  for 
the  circumstantial  recollection  of  those  personal  wants, 
by  the  remembrance  and  ideas  of  which  the  warmth  and 
earnestness  of  prayer  are  chiefly  excited. 

Private  prayer,  in  proportion  as  it  is  usually  accompa- 
nied with  more  actual  thought  and  reflection  of  the  pe- 
titioner's own,  has  a  greater  tendency  than  other  modes 
of  devotion  to  revive  and  fasten  upon  the  mind  the  gen- 
eral impressions  of  religion.  Solitude  powerfully  assists 
this  effect.  When  a  man  finds  himself  alone  in  commun- 
ion with  his  Creator,  his  imagination  becomes  filled  with 
a  conflux  of  awful  ideas  concerning  the  universal  agen- 
cy, and  invisible  presence,  of  that  Being ;  concerning 
what  is  likely  to  become  of  himself,  and  of  the  superla- 
lative  importance  of  providing  for  the  happiness  of  his 
future  existence,  by  endeavors  to  please  Aim,  who  is  the 
arbiter  of  his  destiny  :  reflections,  which,  whenever  they 
gain  admittance,  for  a  season  overwhelm  all  others  ;  and 
leave,  when  they  depart,  a  solemnity  upon  the  thoughts 
that  will  seldom  fail,  in  some  degree,  to  affect  the  con- 
duct of  life. 

Private  prayer,  thus  recommended  by  its  own  propri- 
ety, receives  a  superior  sanction  from  the  authority  and 
example  of  Christ.* 


*See  Matt.  vi.  6;  xiv.  23. 


eN  PRAYER  AND  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.  251 

III.  Family  Prayer. 

The  peculiar  use  of  family  prayer  consists  in  its  influ- 
ence upon  servants,  and  the  young  members  of  a  family, 
whose  attention  you  cannot  easily  command  in  public 
worship. 

IV.  Public  Worship. 

Assemblies  for  public  worship  afford  opportunities  for 
moral  and  religious  instruction  to  those  who  otherwise 
would  receive  none." — Perhaps  some  one  will  say, '  I  see 
no  use  in  my  going  to  church.     1  can  spend  the  sabbath 
more  to  my  benefit  at  home.     Why  should  I  be  "  obliged 
to  sit  out  a  tedious  sermon,  in  order  to  hear  what  is  known 
already,  what  is  better  learned  from  books,  or  suggested 
by  meditation.'     They,   whose  qualifications  and  habits 
best  supply  to  themselves  all  the  effect  of  public  ordinan- 
ces, will  be  the  last  to  prefer  this  excuse,  when  they  ad- 
vert to   the  general  consequence  of  setting  up  such  an   ex- 
emption, as  well  as  when  they  consider  the  turn  which  is 
iure  to  be  given  in  the  neighborhood  to   their  absence 
from  public  worship.     You  stay  from  church,  to  employ 
the  sabbath  at  home  in  exercises  suited  to  its  proper  bu- 
siness :  your  next  neighbor  stays  from  church,  to  spend 
the  seventh  day  less  religiously  than  he   passed  any  of 
the  six,  in  a  sleepy,  stupid  rest,  or  at  some  rendezvous  of 
drunkenness   and  debauchery,  and  yet   thinks  that  he  is 
only  imitating  you,  because  you  both  agree  in  not  going 
to  church. 

There  are  other  valuable  advantages  growing  out  of 
the  use  of  religious  assemblies. 

1.  Joining  in  prayer  and  praises  to  their  common  Cre- 
ator and  Governor,  has  a  sensible  tendency  to  unite  man- 
kind together,  and  to  cherish  and  enlarge  the  generous 
affections.  Sprung  from  the  same  extraction,  preparing 
together  for  the  period  of  all  worldly  distinctions,  re- 
minded of  their  mutual  infirmities  and  common  depen- 


252  PRACTICAL    ETHICS. 

dency,  imploring  and  receiving  support  and  supplies  from 
the  same  great  source  of  power  and  bounty,  having  all 
one  interest  to  secure,  one  Lord  to  serve,  one  judgment, 
the  supreme  object  to  all  of  their  hopes  and  fears,  to  look 
towards;  it  is  hardly  possible,  in  this  position,  to  behold 
mankind  as  strangers,  competitors,  or  enemies  ;  or  not  to 
regard  them  as  children  of  the  same  family,  assembled 
before  their  common  parent,  and  with  some  portion  of 
the  tenderness  which  belongs  to  the  most  endearing  of 
our  domestic  relations. 

2.  Assemblies  for  the  purpose  of  divine  worship,  force 
upon  the  thoughts  the  natural  equality  of  the  human  spe- 
cies, and  thereby  promote  humility  and  condescension  in 
the  highest  orders  of  the  community. 

The  public  worship  of  Christians  is  a  duty  of  divine 
appointment.  ''  Where  two  or  three,"  says  Christ,  "  are 
gathered  together  in  my  name,  there  am  1  in  the  midst 
of  them."*  This  invitation  will  want  nothing  of  the 
force  of  a  command  with  those  who  respect  the  person 
and  authority  from  which  it  proceeds.  Again,  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  "  not  forsaking  the  assembling 
of  ourselves  together,  as  the  manner  of  some  is  ;"t  which 
reproof  seems  as  applicable  to  the  desertion  of  our  pub- 
lic worship  at  this  day,  as  to  the  forsaking  the  religious 
assemblies  of  Christians  in  the  age  of  the  Apostle."J 

V.  Forms  of  Prayer. 

''Liturgies,  or  preconcerted  forms  of  public  devotion, 
being  neither  enjoined  in  scripture,  nor  forbidden,  there 
can  be  no  good  reason  for  either  receiving  or  rejecting 
them,  but  that  of  expediency ;  which  expediency  is  to 
be  gathered  from  a  comparison  of  the  advantages  and  dis- 
advantages attending  upon  this  mode  of  worship,  with 
those  which  usually  accompany  extemporary  prayer. 


*  Matt,  xviii.  20.  f  Heb.  x.  2S. 

t  Paley's  Moral  Philos.  Book  V.  Chap.  4. 


ON  PRAYER  AND  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.  253 

The  advantages  of  a  liturgy  are  these  : 

1.  That  it  prevents  absurd  and  extravagant  addresses 
to  God." — So  Dr.  Paley.  1  would  rather  say,  that  men 
who  cannot  pray  extempore  without  absurdity  and  ex- 
travagance, are  unqualified  for  the  christian  ministry. 

"  2.  That  it  prevents  the  confusion  of  extemporary 
prayer,  in  which  the  congregation,  being  ignorant  of 
each  petition  before  they  hear  it,  and  having  little  or  no 
time  to  join  in  it  after  they  have  heard  it,  are  confounded 
between  their  attention  to  ihe  minister,  and  to  their  own 
devotion. ""—^The  weight  of  this  objection  of  Dr.  Paley  to 
extemporary  prayer,  must  be  judged  of  by  experience. 
Nothing  more  seems  necessary,  however,  to  the  devotion 
of  a  congregation,  in  time  of  prayer,  than  that  each  in- 
dividual distinctly  perceive  the  ideas  of  the  speaker,  and 
have  such  feelings  excited  as  correspond  with  those  ideas. 
It  is  not  found  necessary,  in  other  cases,  that  a  man  should 
know  beforehand  what  he  is  going  to  hear,  in  order  that 
it  may  have  a  proper  effect  on  his  feelings.  When  I 
converse  with  a  friend,  I  can  enter  into  all  his  various 
feelings,  as  he  is  uttoring  sentence  after  sentence.  Or 
when  I  hear  an  eloquent  orator,  he  excites  in  my  breast 
various  emotions  and  passions,  however  rapid  may  be  his 
elocution  It  would  seem,  therefore,  by  analogy,  that 
extemporary  prayer,  if  devout  on  the  part  of  the  speaker, 
may  be  so  on  the  part  of  the  hearers. 

3.  That  it  prevents  the  incoherence  and  needless  repe- 
titions of  extemporary  prayer.  This  is  an  objection  of 
weight.  The  incoherence  of  many  extemporary  prayers, 
which  have,  perhaps,  no  other  fault,  presents  a  serious 
obstacle  to  the  devotion  of  them  that  join. 

"  These  advantages  of  a  liturgy  are  connected  with 
two  principal  inconveniences  ;  first,  that  forms  of  prayer 
composed  in  one  age,  become  unfit  for  another,  by  the 
unavoidable    change     of    language,    circumstances,   and 


254  PRACTICAL    ETHICS* 

Opinions ;  secondly,  tbat  the  perpetual  repetition  of  the 
fame  form  of  words,  produces  weariness  and  inaltentive- 
ness  in  the  cong^regation. 

The  Lord's  Prayer  is  a  precedent,  as  weii  as  a  pattern, 
for  forms  of  prayer, — The  properties  required  in  a  pub- 
lic liturgy  are,  that  it  be  compendious  ;  that  it  express 
just  conceptions  of  the  divine  attributes  ;  that  it  recite 
such  wants  as  a  congregation  are  likely  to  feel,  and  no 
other  ;  and  that  it  contain  as  few  controverted  proposi- 
tions as  possible."*  Of  course,  the  same  properties  ar« 
required  in  extemporary  prayer. 

CBAPTER  XZZV* 

On  the  Sabbath. 

I.   Use  of  Sabbatical  Institutions. 

The  advantages  of  sabbatical  institutions  are  the  fol- 
lowing : 

1.  "  Sunday  affords  an  interval  of  relaxation  to  the  la- 
borious part  of  mankind. 

2.  Sunday  leaves  to  men  of  all  ranks  and  professions, 
sufficient  leisure,  and  not  more  than  what  is  sufficient, 
both  for  the  external  offices  of  Christianity,  and  the  re- 
tired, but  equally  necessary,  duties  of  religious  medita* 
tion  and  inquiry. 

3.  They  whose  humanity  embraces  the  whole  sensi- 
tive creation,  will  esteem  it  no  inconsiderable  recom- 
mendation of  a  weekly  return  of  public  rest,  that  it  af- 
fords a  respite  to  the  toil  of  brutes." 

4.  The  institution  of  the  sabbath,  in  connection  with 
public  worship,  is  promotive  of  mental   and  moral  im- 


« Ibid.  «hap.  ». 


ON    THE    SAHBATM.  26fi 

provement,  encourages  a  taste  for  reading,  and  conduces 
to  cleanliness  and  neatness  in  the  person  and  dress  of  the 
lower  classes,  and  also  to  good  manners  and  good  order 
in  society.  These  advantages  are  derived  from  the  ob- 
servance of  the  sabbath,  even  supposing  that  they  are 
unaccompanied  with  any  religious  improvement.  Whoev- 
er reflects  upon  these  and  the  other  advantages  that  have 
been  enumerated,  ''  must  acknowledge  the  utility  of  the 
sabbath,  and  must  consequently  perceive  it  to  be  every 
man's  duty  to  uphold  the  observance  of  the  day  when 
once  established,  let  the  establishment  have  proceeded 
from  whom  or  from  what  authority  it  will."* 

II.   T^e  Christian  Sabbath. 

"  The  practice  of  holding  religious  assemblies  upon 
the  first  day  of  the  week,  was  so  early  and  universal  in 
the  Christian  church,  that  it  carries  with  it  considerable 
proof  of  having  originated  from  some  precept  of  Christ 
or  of  his  Apostles,  though  none  such  be  now  extant.t 

The  duty  of  the  christian  sabbath  is  violated, 

1.  By  the  going  of  journeys,  the  paying  or  receiving 
of  visits,  or  employing  the  time  at  home  in  writing  let- 
ters, settling  accounts,  or  in  applying  ourselves  to  studies, 
or  to  reading,"  conversing,  or  thinking  on  subjects, 
"  which  bear  no  relation  to  the  business  of  religion. 

2.  By  unnecessary  encroachments  upon  the  rest  and 
liberty  which  Sunday  ought  to  bring  to  the  inferior  orders 
of  the  community  ;  as  by  keeping  servants  on  that  day 
confined  and  busied  in  preparations  lor  the  superfluous 
elegancies  of  our  table  or  dress."J 

3  By  all  recreations,  even  such  as  are  innocent  and 
allowable  on  other  days. 

*  Ibid.  Chap.  €. 

t  See  John,  xji.  19,  26.     Acts,  xx.  6,  7.     1  Cor.  xvi.  1,  2,    Rer.  i.  10. 

I  Palcy's  Moral  Philos.  Book  V.  Chapters  7  and  8. 


(  256  ) 

CHA.FTSII  :zK\r. 

On  Reverencing    the  Deity. 

*'  Thou  shalt  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in 
vain.  Now  the  mention  of  the  name  of  God  is  vain, 
when  it  is  useless  ;  and  it  is  useless,  when  it  is  neither 
likely  nor  intended  to  serve  any  good  purpose  ;  as  when 
it  flows  from  the  lips  idle  and  unmeaning,  or  is  applied 
upon  occasions  inconsistent  with  any  consideration  of  re- 
ligion and  devotion.  The  offence  of  profane  swearing 
is  aggravated  hy  the  consideration,  that  in  it  duty  and  de- 
cency are  sacriticed  to  the  slightest  of  temptations."* 
To  say  nothing  of  the  contempt  which  it  casts  upon  God, 
and  the  abhorre'^ce  in  which  it  is  therefore  held  by  all 
men  of  piety,  the  want  of  good  breeding  which  it  shows, 
is  enough  to  make  it  avoided  by  every  person  of  a  culti- 
vated mind  or  respectable  character. 

There  is  another  species  of  irreverence  of  the  Deity, 
to  which  it  may  be  proper  just  to  advert.  I  allude  to 
the  quoting  of  passages  of  scripture, — not  for  the  sake 
of  mockery  and  ridicule,  for  that  is  the  work  of  the  in- 
fidel,— but  lor  the  sake  of  pleasantry  and  wit.  The  wit 
consists  in  accommodating  a  passage  to  a  purpose  which 
is  wholly  foreign  from  that  for  which  it  is  used  in  the 
Bible,  and  yet  bears  a  fanciful  resemblance  to  it.  This 
manner  of  quoting  passages  of  scripture  is  frequent,  and 
is  practised  even  by  some  men  of  piet;y.  And  perhaps 
it  may  sometimes  be  done  without  harm,  when  the  pas- 
sages which  are  thus  quoted,  do  not,  in  the  Bible,  relate 
to  anything  of  a  serious  and  solemn  nature.  Otherwise, 
the  irreverence  appears  to  be  of  the  same  kind  with  that 
of  profane  swearing. 


*lbid.  Cliai).  9 


ON  REVERENCING  THE  DEITY.  257 

Irreverence  of  the  Deity,  whatever  form  it  may  as- 
sume, can  arise  only  from  very  inadequate  conceptions, 
or  an  almost  total  furgetfulness,  of  his  attributes,  and  of 
the  relations  which  we  sustain  to  him.  A  man  who  holds 
an  elevated  station,  and  who  is  venerable  for  his  many 
virtues,  is  seldom  treated  with  disrespect.  Few  can  ap- 
pear in  the  presence  of  an  earthly  monarch,  without 
some  impressions  of  reverence  and  awe.  What  Ameri- 
can can  pronounce  irreverently  the  sacred  and  beloved 
name  of  Washington  ?  How  would  our  bosom  he  pained, 
to  hear  such  contempt  cast  on  this  name,  as  we  are  ac- 
customed to  hear,  on  that  of  the  Most  High ! — Those  who 
profane  the  name  of  Jehovah,  or  otherwise  treat  him 
with  irreverence,  forget  who  it  is  that  they  treat  in  this 
manner.  They  forget,  that  it  is  his  power,  by  which  they 
are  upheld  in  existence  from  one  moment  to  another, — 
by  which  their  pulse  beats  and  their  limbs  move  ; — that 
power,  which   created  all  worlds,  ?.nd  which   moves   all 

^  the  wheels  of  nature.  They  forget,  that  not  a  word,  or 
thought,  or  feeling  of  ours,  can  escape  the  notice  of  his 
omniscient  eye  ; — that  eye,  which  surveys  the  universe, 
and,  with  a  single  glance,  pervades  innumerable  orders 
of  being.  They  forget,  that  life  and  death  are  at  his 
disposal,  and  heaven  and  hell  under  his  control;  that  he 
is  as  pure  and  holy,  as  he  is  wise  and  powerful ;  that  be- 
fore his  tribunal  we  must  all  appear,  and   by  his  decision 

\  must  be  fixed  in  a  state  of  interminable  bliss  or  wo. 


ERRATA. 

Inconsequence  of  the  greater  part  of  the  work  having  been  printed  without 
the  superintendence  of  the  author,  se^^ral  typographical  errors,  worthy  of  cor- 
rection, hare  occurred. 

Page  41,  line  18,  read,  *  feelings'  being  involved.* 
"    49,  line  10,  read,  *  by  no  means.' 
**    57,  line  15,  for  *  or  othei-s'  read  *  ot  otliers.' 
**    87,  Jine  2,  for  *  is'  read  <  are.' 
«*    85,  in  the  note,  for  » 83'  read  *  84'* 
•*  lis,  line  17,  for  « no'  read  *  do.' 
**  143,  line  1,  for  *  unfee'ing'  read  *  unsleeping.* 
«  159,  lines  22  and  23,  read  *  titne^  and  */or  life,'  in  italics, 
*<  200*  line  21,  read  *  or  be  lamed.' 
«  213,  line  13,  for  *  popular'  read  <  populous.' 


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